


tale as old as time

by mintables



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, F/F, Gen, M/M, and With a whole lot more fun baby!, dedue voice please. this is my emotional support beast u see, dimidue.... is about Yearning. thank u, everything i write is Yearning, sweet sweet beauty & the beast au indulgence....., this is supposed to be slowburn but really... its simply yearning, without. the kidnappy bullshit. and gaston really, yeah that one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2020-12-22 15:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21079364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintables/pseuds/mintables
Summary: If he could learn to love another, and become worthy of their love in return- the way, Cornelia had told him, he was not worthy of his stepmother’s, nor those friends he had pushed away for so long- by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time; the bargain was one the enchantress was certain she would not lose. As the years passed, he fell into further despair and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?Chapter 6:Dedue makes a promise, Dimitri is doing badly, everyone is worried, but at least Annette hasn't blown anything up yet.





	1. Prologue/Forget-Me-Not

**Author's Note:**

> i am a fool who has decided a great time 2 start a multichapter self-indulgent au is, well. right in the middle of juggling college applications. and im absolutely right! so here goes :') i'll do.... my best to finish this in a timely manner. bear with me

_ Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although growing up he had everything his heart desired, this did not last for long. His castle was attacked by those seeking power, and his parents were killed before his very eyes. The prince lost all those he held dear with the exception of just a few close friends, and in his devastation, he pushed even those away. One winter's night four years later, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by any human contact, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away, but she warned him not to be so cruel, for it was his own stepmother’s lack of love for him that led to the slaughter of his family. Enraged by her words, he dismissed her again, but the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal the beautiful enchantress Cornelia, who had served in the palace when he was a child. The prince raised his lance against her, but it was too late, for she had come only to claim the title and lands of someone thought as good as dead by his people, and even his closest friends. Smile turning taunting, she told him his interior might as well match his exterior. And as punishment for raising arms against her, she transformed him into a hideous beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there. Ashamed not only of his monstrous form, but his failure to protect his people and, if the sorceress was to be believed, his own family, the beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-third year. If he could learn to love another, and become worthy of their love in return- the way, Cornelia had told him, he was not worthy of his stepmother’s, nor those friends he had pushed away for so long- by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time; the bargain was one the enchantress was certain she would not lose. As the years passed, he fell into further despair and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast? _

  
  


Dedue sighed as the sound of his father’s hammer echoing through their cottage pulled him out of the same dream he’d been having for a good week now- one he realized, as he scrubbed at his eyes blearily, he could not remember, just like the rest of them. The only image he’d been able to retain from any of his dreams had been a hulking, monstrous form, a beast with golden fur and one eye- and the blue had remained his strongest memory, a color that felt too much like it  _ meant  _ something, something important.

Or maybe he was just reading too much into things, clinging to any possibility that there was something out there that would give him an excuse to leave this town. He’d dreamed of getting out- of leaving the whispers that followed his family wherever they went- since he was too young to remember much else.

He’d been sick of how numb he’d gotten to those whispers for just as long.

Still, at the very least he had his escapes- it had been clear for years now that even though his father wanted at least one child to follow in his stead and become a blacksmith, Dedue was much more suited to cooking, to delicate tasks like needlework, to anything he could do with his hands that might fetch a penny at the market when his father’s weapons weren’t selling. And much more so than those, he had his garden- something the rest of the village could never take from him, regardless of the murmurs he’d catch, the talk of how the blacksmith’s son spent more time with plants than he did other people, how  _ odd  _ that was… but he was content in his solitude, content in the escape his garden offered him, so what did it matter, really? 

Among his flowers, he could, for a moment, pretend he was  _ anywhere,  _ and gods, did he enjoy pretending he wasn’t in this village.

But- oh, he’d almost forgotten. The village florist had mentioned she was getting a new shipment of blooms that day, and he wanted to be the first to pick some out. 

Not that he exactly had tough competition.

Still, Dedue felt a little more willing to face another day in this town at the thought, and it was enough for him to dress quickly and make his way out the door and to the market with quick goodbyes to his family. The village was quiet, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long- the more people that woke up, the worse the crowds in the market would be, and he’d wanted to snag some more eggs, anyways, because their laying hen had been getting old and a recipe he’d wanted to try required more than she was able to produce on her own.

He quickened his pace, ignoring the sparse people walking the streets, exchanging hellos with each other- but not to him, never to him. That was fine. At the very least, he appreciated the solitude.

At least, that’s what he told himself, pushing down any ache for more. His family would always come first, before any selfish desires of his own, so here he’d stay until his father managed to find someplace better that would take his wares. That’s what he had been convincing himself for the past nine years, ever since the royal family, who had always been fond of his father’s work, was slaughtered and they’d had to flee to this village. Anything Dedue might have wanted for himself, any life that did not involve protecting those he held dear, simply  _ had  _ to come second.

Still… it didn’t hurt to dream, sometimes, even if his flowers were the only ones he could share those dreams with.

The Pinelli-Varley Flowershop’s door was still shut when he reached it, but that did not deter him. Bernadetta, the sweet woman who ran it, was perhaps one of the only people in the village he would consider a friend, and she never minded him arriving early on days she got new shipments of flowers. He didn’t hesitate to knock, and the door swung open a moment later to Bernadetta’s wife, Leonie.

He nodded a greeting, and she smiled in return- they did not often talk, but he respected her, and trusted Bernadetta’s judgement; he knew she felt the same. “Bernie’s still sorting out the shipment in the back,” she told him. “I can let her know you’re here.”

“No-no need!” Bernadetta called, her soft voice echoing from the back of the shop. “I’ll be right there in a moment!”

True to her word, a moment later Bernadetta made her way into the entrance hall, grinning. There was a streak of dirt on her cheek, one Leonie rubbed off fondly before kissing the spot. Dedue chuckled as Bernadetta flushed furiously. “Good- good morning, Dedue!” she squeaked, placing a hand on Leonie’s chest without actually pushing her away. “You’re here about the flowers, yes?”

He nodded. “I am. Would you mind if I had a look?”

Bernadetta broke away from Leonie with a smile and shook her head. “Of course not! I think there are some new ones you’d like.”

He followed her into the back room, Leonie following for a moment to give her wife a goodbye kiss before murmuring something about needing to go buy fish and heading out. Dedue didn’t pay too much attention to them, though- he knew how nervous Bernadetta could get about the displays of affection, even in front of someone she’d known for a while and come to trust, like him. He didn’t know her full story, but from what little he had learned over the years it had not been a happy one.

He was glad that she had a life that made her happy, though, here and now.

As he surveyed the back room, brimming with new plants that would either be moved into the greenhouse outside or taken to the market later in the day, he paused, catching a flash of blue in the corner of his vision that was oddly familiar. The flowers in question were small and unassuming, clustered so tightly together in their pot it was almost as if they were choking themselves under their own weight. But their color…

It was the same blue he kept seeing, night after night, in his dreams.

Bernadetta wandered over, looking less flustered, and hummed approvingly when she saw what had caught his eye. “The forget-me-nots from Faerghus are especially blue, aren’t they?” she asked, voice brightening like it tended to when talking about her flowers. He nodded.

“I hardly recognized them as forget-me-nots at all. I’ve never seen them this shade before.” He leaned closer, gently tilting up a bloom that was beginning to droop. “They’re… enchanting.”

Bernadetta laughed. “If you like them so much, they’re yours.”

He paused, glancing up at her to be met only with earnest sincerity in her gaze. “Bernadetta, I cannot possibly accept. At least allow me to pay for them- the people of this town do not give you enough as it is-”

She waved her hand. “The people of this town want… my roses, that’s all. They’re all that sells.” She looked dejected for a moment, and he almost placed his hand on her shoulder before he thought the better of it- he didn’t wish to startle her, and it was easy to do so. She brightened a moment later, though. “It’s- not that it’s anyone’s fault! They just all want roses for the ones they love. I can’t fault them for that!”

He shook his head, smiling gently, and could see Bernadetta relax a little. “Of course not. But still, I can’t-”

“Nonsense!” she squeaked, wincing at the tone of her own voice. “I- mean. Really, you shouldn’t worry about it! You’re a friend, Dedue. It’s the least I can do.”

He could see in her gaze that she was dead set on it, and, well… he did not wish to upset her should he refuse. He sighed. “Very well. Please, allow me to repay you in some other way, at the very least.”

She smiled. “Then I’ll let you know when I think of one.”

It was as much of an acceptance as he was going to get, he figured.

Forget-me-nots in hand, Dedue bid Bernadetta farewell, but sighed as he was almost immediately pulled into the massive crowd currently gathering in the square. Buying eggs would have to wait, he supposed dryly, glancing around and almost immediately spotting the source of the commotion at the center of the crowd, clad all in red and flanked by her two right-hand men. Edelgard von Hresvelg had returned from her hunting expedition, then.

She was giving some sort of speech to the crowd, one that Dedue tuned out as he tried to work his way through the crowd without damaging the flowers- easier said than done, really. The blooms were more delicate than he’d anticipated, and one had already lost its petals in the time it had taken him to get from Bernadetta’s to the crowd. He’d admit a part of him hated the way the townspeople flocked to whoever would paint them pretty promises. 

Edelgard ran the town, that much was true, but as of late every last party she had sent into the woods had not returned. There had been rumors of a beast, one that was killing all who ventured too deeply into the forest, and many of the townspeople had been taken by the story. Dedue was not one of them. Still, what had started out as a few sporadic hunting parties turned into more and more, until Edelgard was sending out entire groups of men armed to the teeth and none would return. It was clear the losses were weighing heavily on her, but… Dedue wished she would stop sending people into the forest at all. She’d promised the town they would kill the beast, but whatever was in there would clearly be better off left alone.

The tail end of whatever Edelgard was saying filtered back into his awareness as he tried desperately to find a way to make it through without jostling people, a process hindered by his large frame. “... And we have finally found, in our last foray, armor proving that our men are being killed in these woods.” She turned to the man at her left, shorter than the other and with his long orange hair swept into a ponytail. “Show them, Ferdinand.”

The man (ah, he was Ferdinand, so the broody-looking one to Edelgard’s right must be Hubert- notorious just as much for his utterly unexpected yet utterly devoted marriage to Ferdinand as he was for how ruthlessly he would carry out Edelgard’s orders) lifted a helmet, mangled on one side and caked with blood. Dedue involuntarily winced. Whatever had caused that… was not a human, he would admit.

“And if you look here,” Edelgard continued, “You can see the bite marks, caused by something far larger, far more dangerous than any wolf we know. Whatever is lurking in the woods, we must rip it out at the root so we may continue to live freely.”

The crowd cheered, and Dedue furrowed his brow. She knew what the people wanted to hear, that much was clear, but how did she intend to do that, when so far no one had come back alive…?

“Which is why I, personally, will be leading a strike force, with new, better weapons forged by one of the finest blacksmiths the kingdom- no, the country- has to offer,” she continued, and Dedue’s blood ran cold as cheers erupted around him.

His father.

Heart in his throat, he turned to push through the crowd without listening to the rest of Edelgard’s speech- he had to get home, had to warn his family that they were about to be dragged into this mess. They did not nearly have the resources, and his father was overworked enough as it was- gods, what were they going to do? It would pay well, to be sure, but… he knew his father, knew they were much the same. The last thing he would do would be to forge weapons to aid in a suicide mission.

But how could they say no, when the town disliked them enough as it was?

He had to duck through several side streets to avoid the worst of the crowd- now buzzing with anticipation and thinly-veiled bloodlust that he did not wish to dwell on for too long- and by the time he got home, the worst of his fears were realized. He did not even have to enter to see the flash of red through the window of his home and realize Edelgard was already inside, already talking to his father, already dragging their family into her mess.  _ No- _

But the next instant the door opened and Edelgard walked out, heels clicking crisply across the cobblestones. Her face was unreadable- Dedue could not tell what had transpired, and swallowed hard, heart pounding too, too fast-

But as unreadable as Edelgard’s face was, Ferdinand von Aegir was an open book. The distress on his face as he trotted out a beat after her, followed by his husband- who linked their hands and was met with a look of gratitude- was all Dedue needed to see for relief to swell in him. 

They were alright, then. They had to be.

He waited for the three to disappear down the road before entering through his garden and placing the forget-me-nots near a spot he’d been meaning to fill for a while. He’d plant them after he found out what, exactly, had happened- there was still a danger they might be pulled into the beast-hunting, anyway. Crossing Edelgard was not a good idea, not when Hubert was around.

“Dedue, oh, thank the gods,” his sister breathed the moment he walked in, and his previous relief shattered. His father and mother looked nearly ill, and his sister threw her arms around him the minute he shut the door.

“I saw Edelgard’s speech in the square,” he breathed softly, patting his sister on the head. “I tried to get here as fast as I could, but-”

“I told her it was a suicide mission to go back into the woods, and we couldn’t possibly help,” his father said, voice shakier than Dedue had ever heard it. “And she informed us that she would be back to see if we… changed our minds. About helping the right cause.”

Ah. “So we have no choice in the matter, then.”

His father shook his head. “I don’t believe so. But we lack the resources to fulfill a request of this magnitude. I would have to make a trip to Arianrhod for more umbral steel, at the very least.”

Dedue sighed. The tone of his father’s voice was all he needed to know that he had already accepted that he was going. “When are you departing?”

“Within the hour,” his father said, and he looked so  _ tired  _ it hurt. Dedue couldn’t just let him shoulder this burden.

“No- I can make the trip myself-”

“I couldn’t make you do that. It is a long ride, and the woods have been dangerous of late.” His father placed a hand on his shoulder. “I will be alright, Dedue. The smithing job… has never been your burden to bear.”

It was something that had gone unspoken for a long time, but to hear it said, now… Dedue had to close his eyes, had to fight back a sudden hot surge too close to tears. “I- very well. Please… be careful, father.”

His father nodded, and enough was said.

After his father left, promising to return in a few days, Dedue found himself in his garden as usual. It was a place he could think, could find peace no matter the state of the world around him, and  _ gods  _ if he didn’t need peace at that moment. After deliberating for a while, he planted the forget-me-nots between brilliant irises and a patch of morning glories that were just beginning to bloom. The blue of the little flowers managed to outshine their companions, however, by a long shot.

He wondered what it was about that shade that he couldn’t seem to let go of.

It was later, when rain battered against the windows of their cottage and he could only pray that his father had found shelter for the night, that the blue entered his mind again- present, as ever, in his dreams. In this dream, though, Dedue got closer than ever before, and found himself standing directly before the beast he had been unable to stop dreaming about, found himself staring directly into one brilliant blue eye.

It was all too human, too much behind it to decipher, but as Dedue reached forward- perhaps to cup a cheek, perhaps to offer some comfort to quell the torment he could plainly see- a  _ crack  _ of thunder tore him away, left him sitting bolt upright as the image of what he had seen fled the corners of his waking mind.

In the morning, all he could remember was the eye of the beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter.... sylvain lumiere makes his stunning debut. accompanied by felix cogsworth, mercedes mrs potts, and two (2) chips in the form of ashe and annette! oh and beast dimitri, of course. duh
> 
> twitter @ylissebian blah blah blah all i think about now is dimidue. goodnight


	2. The Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> terribly sorry this one's so short... u kno how it is. school is hell etc etc. at least we have sylvainiere now, bless his soul

The palace doors slamming open jolted Sylvain out of the latest daydream he’d been busily concocting- another one where the curse was lifted and they just… got to live their damn lives. He had been in the middle of imagining just how he’d propose to Felix- something just ostentatious enough to make him splutter without being too over-the-top, something that would make his cheeks turn that shade of red he’d used to love-

Used to. Because Felix’s cheeks had not been _ able _to turn red, had not had blood in them for five years. Neither had his own, nor any of the rest of them trapped in this palace that was much more like a prison.

At the very least, he had been thinking recently with Dimitri’s twenty-third birthday only months away, he and Felix were going to get to fulfill the promise they’d made each other as children. At least when the curse ran its course and their lives did as well… it would be together.

The sound of the palace doors brought him hope, though, for about as long as it took to force himself to look at the entryway- which had been getting harder and harder to do by the day- and register that the man stumbling inside, wild-eyed with panic and bleeding from a gash in his leg that did not, thankfully, look too serious, was probably more than twice Dimitri’s age and certainly not a Curse Breaker Contender (as Annette had used to excitedly theorize about).

They’d had a list, once. It had dwindled. It did not exist anymore.

“Hello?” the man in the entrance called, limping further into the hall. Sylvain elbowed Felix, standing silently next to him like he’d been doing more often lately. He didn’t let on, but the curse was creeping on him faster than the rest of the others- his joints would freeze up, even if he wouldn’t admit it, and Sylvain had known him long enough to tell it terrified him.

Privately, he also thought the effects of the curse might be sped up for Felix because of how vehemently he hated Dimitri, even after five years in which the rest of them had grown only to pity him, to wish there was something they could do to pull him out of… the place he had ended up. The whole curse was based around love, on _ Dimitri _ being worthy of it, after all- to have as bitter a hatred for him as the one Felix harbored was as good as a death sentence. But he would never tell Felix as much.

He knew Felix already knew.

It took Felix a moment to respond to his nudging with only a grunt, shifting forward a little to peer at the man in the hall, who had wandered forward in the time it had taken. Felix narrowed his eyes and made a shushing motion at Sylvain, or as much as he could, joints still stiff and half-frozen. The clock in his chest was just about the only part of him that they could consistently count on to move, nowadays.

“Hello?” the man called again, his voice echoing across the high ceilings. Sylvain winced. If Dimitri heard… 

But Dimitri did not hear much of reality anymore, anyways. The man should be alright.

“Don’t say anything,” Felix hissed, keeping his voice as low as he could. “He might just leave on his own.”

Sylvain gave Felix a look, and he couldn’t _ quite _make his face do the things he wanted it to anymore but it was enough, and he could see Felix relent. As if he’d ever been able to say no to Sylvain, when it really came down to it.

“We don’t have to do much, but we should at least help the guy, Felix. At least keep him hidden so he doesn’t…”

He trailed off. It was wisest not to get Felix started when it came to Dimitri, not if he wanted anything to get done anytime soon. The implication was there- if this intruder was found by Dimitri, it would be far from pretty for any of them. Still, even Felix couldn’t just send the man out into the rain, not injured the way he was, not with the Demonic Beasts Sylvain knew all too well lurked in the woods around the palace.

He wondered if his brother was one of them.

He hoped fervently that he’d already died. If the curse was going to claim him, he had better outlive that bastard, at the very least.

Felix sighed, not quite meeting Sylvain’s eyes. He looked too tired to argue. “Fine,” he muttered. Sylvain grinned and patted him with one candlestick, a touch neither could feel. Had they been human- had there been no curse-

But thoughts like that were pointless. This was what they lived with, now, and this was how they would die, most likely. He’d accepted that.

Sylvain hopped off the ledge they’d both been watching from, alighting on a footstool that might once have been human. He could never be sure nowadays. It didn’t budge under him, though, and he didn’t glance back to see if Felix was following him. It was time to put on an air of bravado, help the guy out, and try to keep Dimitri from killing him.

Goddess, how the hell had any of them ended up here?

“Hey,” he called, and the man jumped, but to his credit did not scream. A relief- a scream would have caught Dimitri’s attention for sure, and there was no telling exactly what he’d do. He allowed the man to look around wildly for a second, trying to locate the source of the voice, before clearing his throat. “Down here, buddy.”

The moment the man’s gaze alighted on him, he stumbled back, wincing as it put weight on his injured leg. “What- you’re-”

“Talking candlestick, yeah, I know,” Sylvain said dryly. “Very aware. Welcome to the palace.”

“Ah,” the man said faintly. “I’m dreaming.”

Sylvain sighed. “I can assure you, you’re not. But you _ are _hurt, if you want to-”

“If you want to get out of here while you can, because I can tell you for sure what’s in here is much worse than what’s out there,” Felix interjected. The man’s eyes widened more upon seeing him, as well, but at least he didn’t jerk away again.

_ “Felix!” _Sylvain hissed. “Don’t mind him. He’s just not… fond… of our. Boss. Yeah.”

_ “Not fond _isn’t the half of it,” Felix muttered, but dropped it.

The man furrowed his brow. “What… what _ is _ out there? I was on my way to Arianrhod, but my horse got spooked by lightning and threw me, and… I wasn’t expecting to find a _ castle _of all things out here, but-”

“Arianrhod?” Sylvain asked. “That’s a long ways from here. Here, just- why don’t you sit down.” He made his way towards the armchair in front of the fire, and the man followed at considerably a quicker pace. A candelabra could only move so fast. “We’ll have you on your way in the morning, and _ everything will be fine.” _He directed the last part at Felix, who he did not have to look at to know was on the verge of protesting again.

“I… thank you,” the man acquiesced, settling into the chair. Sylvain shimmied his way up the leg of the table beside him, ignoring the glare Felix was surely shooting him at being unable to follow.

“Felix, go fetch Mercedes, wouldja?” he called. “Ask her if she’d make some tea for our guest, here.”

“For the record, this is absolute idiocy,” Felix grumbled, but Sylvain could hear him moving away. He turned his attention towards the man, who’d been watching curiously.

“How exactly do you… how are you…” the man asked awkwardly, seeming unsure how to broach the topic. Sylvain laughed dryly.

“How are we, by all accounts inanimate objects, moving?” he offered. The man nodded. Sylvain shrugged. No point hiding it. “It was a curse. We… used to be human. Let’s just say the, ah, prince of this castle pissed off the wrong people, and, well… everyone here got caught up in it too.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone- it wasn’t like it was Dimitri’s fault, not really. He couldn’t hold onto a grudge, not like Felix, not against his _ friend- _even if Dimitri hadn’t let any of them in for nine years, now.

The man looked doubtful, but sighed. “I suppose there’s… no reason to doubt you, is there?” He shifted a little, wincing, and moved a hand to his leg. It had stopped bleeding, at least, Sylvain noticed. “And where is this prince, now?”

Sylvain would have swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, if he’d had a throat at all. But he didn’t. “I’m, ah, not sure. We don’t really… see him often. He mostly keeps to himself, these days.”

“And if he finds me?”

Sylvain couldn’t look at him. “I don’t know. I can’t be sure how… lucid he’d be.”

The man shivered.

“Sylvain, what’s going on here? What’s Felix saying about a- oh, hello!” Mercedes’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence that settled, and Sylvain sighed in relief. Oh, thank goodness. He turned, grinning, and waved her over from where she’d just arrived on top of a tea cart it looked like Felix was wheeling. Ashe and Annette were flanking her, and peered curiously around her at the man as they pulled up beside him.

“You’re… a teapot,” the man said faintly. “Of course. Why not?”

Mercedes laughed softly. “Indeed I am! Would you like tea? You must be so tired after your journey.” She nudged Ashe and Annette forward. “The teacups are Ashe and Annette, if you’d like to drink. I’m Mercedes.”

“Hello!” Annette chirped. Ashe bowed shyly, as much as he could.

“I… Molinaro. Kadeem Molinaro,” the man said faintly. He almost extended his hand, but clearly realized just how impossible a handshake would be, and let it fall into his lap. “I… would not mind tea.”

Mercedes hummed softly, leaning forward to pour tea into Annette. “I’m sorry. I know this must be jarring, to say the least. Our situation is rather, ah, unusual.”

“It’s alright,” the man- Molinaro- said, taking Annette into one shaking hand. She stilled, squinting her eyes closed as he drank.

“It’s lucky Sylvain and Felix found you, though,” Mercedes continued. She sighed sadly. “It would… not have been good if Dimitri was the one to…” She trailed off. “Oh, poor Dimitri.”

“Dimitri?” he asked. Mercedes sent a sharp look to Felix before Sylvain could do the same- letting him get started on that topic was just about the worst thing anyone could do.

“The prince of this castle,” she said, sorrow coloring her tone. “He isn’t doing very well.”

_ “That’s _an understatement,” Felix huffed.

“Felix, _ do _ shut up,” Mercedes said, sugary-sweet but dangerous. 

Felix shut up.

“At any rate,” she continued. “What matters is that he _ didn’t _find you, and in the morning we can get you out of here bright and early, and-”

The palace doors slammed open, and if Sylvain had blood, it would have run cold.

“Oh, _ no,” _Mercedes murmured faintly.

The gust of wind blasting in from the open doors blew out the fire, but Sylvain did not need its light to know exactly what he was going to see when he slowly turned.

Dimitri.

Lightning flashed behind him for a moment, illuminating a single blue eye, wild with fury. Sylvain stood frozen in place as he strode forward, ears pinned back, lips pulled back around a snarl. Goddess, he had grown used to his appearance after five years of it, but in this moment it was just as terrifying as the first time he had seen him after the curse.

_ “Who,” _ Dimitri growled, voice low and dangerous, “Allowed a _ stranger _ in here?”

And oh, he may have been more coherent than usual in that moment but from his tone, sharp with rage and terror mixed as one, it was clear that he was not remotely _ there. _

“Do _ not _try to run,” Sylvain hissed to the man behind him, frozen in fear. “Let- let us handle him.” He couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice.

“Dimitri, let us explain-” Mercedes attempted, voice as soothing as she could make it. She was the only one out of them who was never actually _ afraid _of Dimitri- her heart was just too big, too impossibly kind. She could usually convince him out of doing… whatever stupid things he attempted. And he tended to attempt stupid things a lot, nowadays.

_ Usually. _ She hadn’t been able to save his eye.

“There is nothing _ to _explain,” he snapped, advancing on them slowly. Ashe ducked behind Mercedes, shaking, while Annette hopped out of the man’s hand and stood her ground the best she could.

“Dimitri, he was hurt-”

_ “No! _ You have no idea _ who _ this man is, where he’s from- he could very well be sent from that _ witch _ to finally _ kill me, _ and _ you don’t know!” _ he snapped, flinging a hand to the side, claws unsheathing. Annette made a muffled sound that almost sounded like a sob. Dimitri grasped the chair in a single paw and yanked it around, leaning dangerously close to the man’s face, fangs on full display. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I- I was lost in the woods-” the man stammered, leaning as far away as he could. “I-”

“You are not _ welcome here,” _Dimitri snarled, other paw sinking into the arm of the chair as well.

“I- I’m sorry-” he gasped, panicked eyes darting over Dimitri’s face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“And what are you _ looking at?” _ he growled. “Here to gawk at the _ beast? _ Here to see the _ monster?” _ Dimitri laughed, low and _ broken. _ “Well, gawk away. Look at the _ walking corpse. _ Drink your _ fill.” _

“Please- I just needed shelter from the storm-”

“Shelter?” Dimitri laughed again, the sound grating, chilling. “Oh, I’ll give you _ shelter. _ And maybe your _ mistress _ will come for you, hmm, _ spy? _ I will be looking _ forward _to it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Don’t _lie _to me!” he snapped, jerking the man out of his chair. “I know what you’re here for! When that _witch _finally comes for you, I’ll make her pay. Until then…” Dimitri did not bother to finish his sentence, claws curling around the man’s wrist and dragging him towards the door. “You’re coming with me.”

“Dimitri, _ please!” _Mercedes cried. “He’s not-”

The door slammed behind Dimitri and the man as he whisked out, unhearing. The room was left plunged into darkness.

For a moment, no one moved.

“I _ told _you-” Felix muttered, words like knives in the horrible quiet.

“Felix, _ shut up.” _Mercedes hissed in a tone Sylvain had never heard from her before. They lapsed into a numb silence, broken only by the sound of Annette’s muffled sobbing and porcelain rattling as Mercedes did her best to comfort her.

If Sylvain could, he thought he’d be crying, too. As it was, the best he could do was relight the flames of his candlesticks and let the wax drip into his vision, let himself offer his friends what light he could.

It was the closest he could get to tears, anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter... an epic first meeting. nothing says meet-cute like offering 2 work for a beast so he lets ur dad outta his dungeons and also cause u sorta think he's cuwute


	3. Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HOPE POSTING TWO CHAPTERS IN QUICK SUCCESSION CAN MAKE UP FOR IT.... which was originally gonna be one long chapter. but is not. at any rate school has been kickin my ass which is why this is so late..... bear with me here :')

It had been a day since his father left, and despite himself, Dedue was growing worried. The storm the night he’d gone had been a bad one- what if the thunder had spooked his horse? What if he was hurt, what if…

He tried to push the thoughts down. He was not a worrier, not by nature, but when it came to his family, to the safety of those he held dear… well. He couldn’t be blamed, not really. They were all he had to lose, in this world, in this dreadful little town.

Besides, his father’s safety would have to be the least of his worries, now. Edelgard would probably be back soon, most likely with increasing demands for weapons that no one in his family wanted to make, ones that they didn’t have the resources nor the time for.

He knew she would not be deterred, not by any means. When she had her mind set on something… she got it.

Dedue sighed, cracking an egg into the pan perhaps a little harder than necessary and cursing as the yolk broke. That would be his own breakfast, then- he’d be loathe to give his sister anything but his best. And usually, his cooking  _ was  _ his best, just… he’d been distracted. Worried.

“Dedue, it’ll be alright,” his sister offered softly. He sighed. If she had noticed, he must be making it horribly obvious. The last thing he wanted was to worry his family.

“I… am sorry. Don’t mind me,” he said, voice quiet, not turning to face her. She sighed, but did not press the matter.

He ate quickly and headed for the door as soon as he was done, intending to go right to his garden- he needed an escape more than anything at that moment, needed something to focus on that wasn’t his creeping dread, the feeling settling within him that something was going to go horribly wrong.

Of course, he could not be so lucky, because the first thing he saw when he opened his door was Hubert von Vestra’s gaunt face. He very nearly shut it, and might have if Hubert did not have Ferdinand at his side- he couldn’t possibly be here to threaten his family into compliance, then. It was common knowledge that Ferdinand, in all his idealistic (and  _ loud)  _ optimism, made Hubert better, kinder,  _ softer  _ than he was on his own; if he were there to threaten them in Edelgard’s name he would not have brought his husband along.

“Molinaro,” Hubert greeted, voice low and silky-smooth. Privately, Dedue thought it might be the voice a viper would have, if vipers could speak, and he knew Hubert was just as dangerous. “A moment of your time?”

“I assume I do not have a choice,” he replied coolly, stepping out the door and shutting it behind him. “But not inside.”

“I wouldn’t dream of imposing,” Hubert said in a way that made it clear he  _ would.  _ Ferdinand squeezed his hand and shot him a look, and Hubert sighed, unable to keep the fondness from his expression. It would almost be sweet, Dedue thought, were it not, well, Hubert.

“Is your father here?” Ferdinand asked, not dropping Hubert’s hand. Dedue shook his head, not wishing to say too much- not to Hubert, at any rate. While Ferdinand’s question was certainly out of genuine friendliness, there was no telling what Hubert could do with whatever he answered.

“No. He will be… away for a few days,” he replied. Ferdinand made a sympathetic noise.

“That is unfortunate. We came to inform him that, should he accept, Edelgard is willing to double her payment,” Hubert said. “It is an offer, surely, he cannot refuse. Please, when he returns, let him know that his services would be… invaluable to us.”

Dedue tried not to shudder. He didn’t want to let on how much Hubert’s words made his skin crawl. “I… shall do so. Is that all?”

“Hmm.” Hubert did not dignify him with an answer, instead giving him a cursory glance before turning on his heel and striding back down the path. Ferdinand glanced after him, furrowing his brow.

“Forgive my husband,” he said, offering a handshake. Dedue accepted, because really, it was hard to deny Ferdinand much. “Thank you for your time, Dedue. You’ll have to come for tea sometime to make up for it, alright?”

Dedue refrained from saying that tea with Ferdinand and Hubert sounded like the highest form of torture- it would feel rather like kicking a puppy, with Ferdinand grinning at him so earnestly. “Alright. Good day, Ferdinand.”

“To you as well!” Ferdinand called, before racing down the path to catch up with Hubert. Dedue watched for a moment as they tangled their hands together, Hubert lifting Ferdinand’s to his lips to brush a brief kiss over the knuckles even as Ferdinand said something that was clearly scolding. Hubert chuckled in response, and Dedue turned away as he leaned in closer.

There were some things he just didn’t need to see.

He made his way to his garden a little slower, mulling it over. As much as he still would hate to be responsible for making weapons for a fruitless mission that would only get half the town killed… The pay might be what his family so sorely needed to get out of this town once and for all. 

Still, though. He wouldn’t be the reason for that many deaths. He knew his father wouldn’t be, either.

A whinny jolted him from his thoughts before he even reached his garden, and glancing up, he froze. His father’s horse, wild-eyed with panic, skidded to a halt in front of him, thrashing her head. Reaching for her halter, he did his best to soothe her- he had never been good with animals, but somehow, she was so panicked that even his touch was enough to get her to calm down.

“Dorte?” He asked, feeling stupid a moment later for talking to a horse, of all things. But… she had calmed at his voice. Ah, well. It was not like anyone was here to see him. “Where’s Father? What happened?”

She nickered softly, and tossed her head again. This was madness. But…

“Can you take me to him?” he asked softly. She whinnied again.

Ah, well. He had less to lose, he figured.

Trying to ignore the fear settling in the pit of his stomach, Dedue tied Dorte to a fencepost long enough to hurry back into his house and call that he’d be out for a bit and didn’t know when he’d be back. His sister yelled an acknowledgment, and it was all he needed before he was snagging his axe from the wall, unhitching Dorte as fast as he could, and swinging into the saddle. His father was fine, he assured himself. He had to be.

Dorte didn’t take much urging to head back into the woods, along the path Dedue had traveled countless times as a child. It seemed colder somehow now, but perhaps it was just his mounting unease. He tried to ignore it.

As she progressed, though, taking several turns he didn’t recognize, the path grew darker, branches twisting together overhead and blocking out the midday sun. He couldn’t help the fear, now, thrumming through his veins- had his father really wound up down this road in the dark? Had Dorte thrown him?

_ Where was he now? _

A flash of color at a fork in the road caught his eye, and he pulled Dorte to a halt, heart in his throat. Oh, gods.

It was his father’s scarf.

He dismounted long enough to tug it off the branches it was caught on before swinging back into Dorte’s saddle, urging her down the path with renewed urgency. His father had certainly come this way, then, but… No. Dedue couldn’t let himself consider the possibility of it being too late. He had to be alright. He  _ had  _ to be.

The air grew colder as the trees grew thicker, which didn’t make any sense. Winter was still a long way off, and yet… Dedue found himself having to wrap the scarf around his neck, hunching lower over Dorte as it turned colder still. He furrowed his brow as his breath puffed into clouds in the freezing air, and- was that  _ snow? _

It was unmistakable. As the path twisted further into the woods,  _ snow  _ of all things was creeping its way onto it, growing thicker the deeper he went. Spindly tree branches sagged under its weight, icicles sharpened into daggers dripping nearly to the ground, and Dorte nickered nervously as her hooves sank deeper the more the snow encroached the path.

Dedue was more than nervous, now, something dangerously close to panic rising high in his throat. If his father had spent the night in this alone, without so much as his  _ scarf,  _ then… 

He spurred Dorte on quicker.

Just as the snow reached its thickest and he began to worry Dorte would not be able to continue along the path, the trees beyond them began to grow sparser, cool light filtering through the branches. He glanced up, a chill running through him that had nothing to do with the cold upon seeing that it was already night.  _ How…? _

But Dedue didn’t have time to dwell on that question, because as Dorte trotted through the quickly-dwindling trees, they opened out into a clearing- no, a  _ courtyard,  _ paths and bushes stretching out in front of him. And… at the center of it all, the bushes framing a path leading directly towards it, was a soaring palace, one tower half-crumbled with age but the others mostly intact. Vines crept over the stone walls, curling around elaborate balconies and through nearly-shattered stained-glass windows. It was gorgeous, to be sure, but overwhelmingly eerie- surely, this could only be a few miles away from the village. How did no one know that this was here?

He could only hope that perhaps, if his father were lost this deep in the woods, he’d have spent the night in this palace, perhaps found shelter from the cold in its abandoned halls. He urged Dorte on, but to his surprise, she tossed her head and refused to move, almost as if she was… afraid.

That certainly didn’t help the unease that refused to leave him, but he couldn’t let himself think about it. If his father was here, he was going to find him and bring him home, no matter what it took. That was all there was to it.

He tried to get Dorte to move again, but she refused, and he sighed, dismounting. He could only hope she’d be alright if he hitched her to one of the bushes- on the off chance there were wolves in the area, she could surely break free and run if she wished. He just had to hope she wouldn’t do so otherwise.

He had to do a lot of hoping, right now.

Getting closer to one of the bushes, his breath hitched, and for a moment, he doubted what he was seeing. But there, blooming amongst the leaves, despite the snow, despite the fact that these bushes did not appear to be actually capable of bearing them, were countless blue flowers, nearly identical to the ones planted in his garden. The shade was the exact same he’d been seeing in his dreams every night. He felt, all too suddenly, as though he was being watched, but when he turned, there was nothing there, nothing but bushes laden with tiny blue blossoms stretching all the way to the palace doors.

This was all too ominous, all too much like a dream, but despite his misgivings, it felt like something in Dedue was leading him directly to the palace, whispering in the back of his mind that he would find answers. That maybe an explanation for his dreams was within those walls, and although by all accounts he should have been afraid… he wasn’t.

He could only pray that his father was in here was well.

The palace doors were unlocked, and he hesitated only a moment as they swung open, revealing a dark, cold entrance hall that was shockingly clean for a palace that appeared abandoned.

The tug deep in his gut told him that it wasn’t.

Dedue had never been an impulsive person, never one to rely on instinct, but despite every logical part of him aware this was a bad idea, he stepped inside, boots clicking on the stone floor. He nearly shuddered at the way they echoed in the high-ceilinged room, almost as though someone was following him, and couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. There was no one there, of course, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on him.

This was all so unnatural.

There was a torch in a sconce right by the door, and he took it down with hands much steadier than he felt. He sighed with relief when it did not prove too old to light, and the immediate area was swiftly bathed in warm light. It did a little to offer comfort, at least- the hall was less intimidating than he had thought, nearly homey. It also looked more lived-in than he was expecting, but that couldn’t matter right now.

Something in him told him to ascend the stairs to the left, and he didn’t bother to hesitate. This was all already mad enough as it was. There was no point in giving up now. He was uneasy, yes, but still not afraid.

Dedue found himself in a long corridor, moonlight filtering in from tall, narrow windows lining one side. The air was even colder; he pulled his father’s scarf tighter around his neck, trying not to shiver too badly. He had endured worse.

The feeling of being watched hit him again, abruptly, and this time when he wheeled around there was a skittering sound. Ah. So he wasn’t simply being paranoid, then; a part of him had known that from the start.

“Hello?” he called, voice painfully loud in the nearly-silent hall.

The skittering halted abruptly, and somewhere above Dedue, there was a hissing noise, almost like someone being hushed. He glanced up, but the highest part of the ceiling was bathed in shadow even as he lifted his torch- no matter who was there, he couldn’t see them.

But he could  _ hear _ them.

“Felix, look-”

_ “Shh!” _

“No, seriously,  _ look.” _

The voices- there were two of them, he noted- were speaking in hushed, urgent whispers, ones they probably thought he couldn’t hear. A bit of a foolish notion, considering how well the arched ceiling lent itself to echoes, but Dedue wasn’t complaining. At the very least, whoever they were, they didn’t sound threatening.

“Do you think he could be the one?” The first voice hissed.  _ The one…?  _

There was some shuffling, an exhale of air that could have been a muffled laugh. “The one for  _ what?  _ He’s clearly just here for the other guy, now shut up before he  _ hears  _ us.”

Dedue had to bite back an amused smile at that. The second voice was decidedly worse at being quiet than the first.

“The one to break the curse!” the first voice started, cutting off as the other shushed again. “No- no, it’s fine, if he hasn’t heard us yet I don’t think he  _ will,  _ Felix, it’s  _ fine,  _ just  _ look _ at him-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m looking. Now shut it,” the other voice muttered dryly. Dedue furrowed his brow, forging onwards. The skittering above him was more evident now, clearly following behind him as he went, but… they seemed harmless, really. Whoever they were, he was pretty sure he could take them in a fight if it came down to it. Still, something told him it wouldn’t.

On any other day, he absolutely would have confronted them, the logical part of his mind pointed out. Tonight was different, in a way that he couldn’t determine was good or not.

_ A curse…  _

The image of the beast from his dreams flashed, unbidden, into his mind, and his sudden shiver had nothing to do with the cold. It was, perhaps, too soon to think that maybe the answer to his dreams- were they nightmares? He had never been sure how to categorize them- really was in this palace, but…

He reached the end of the hall and shook the thoughts aside. He was not usually so easily distracted. This whole situation was just… unnerving, made even more so as he pushed at the door and it swung open easily. It looked like it should have been locked.

Then again, the palace itself should have been locked. Dedue couldn’t recognize the part of himself that whispered that it was like it was inviting him in.

He was  _ never  _ this impulsive. What was he  _ doing? _

He was greeted by the sound of muffled sobs as he stepped through the doorway, and instantly froze, heart stopping. He felt, suddenly, all too ill. The voice… 

“Father?” he called softly. The soft crying stopped with a sharp intake of breath, and he stepped further into the room, lifting his torch to reveal bars across the back wall. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach only grew worse as his fears were confirmed: his father was huddled in the back of the cell, staring back at him like he was a ghost.

_ “Dedue?”  _ he asked incredulously. “How did you- no, that doesn’t matter.” His father’s tone grew urgent as he scrambled to his feet. “Listen to me. You have to get out of here before he finds you.”

“He?” Dedue asked, moving closer to the bars and reaching for his father’s hand. He pulled back, though, looking desperate. “Father, what-”

“Please, you have to go- just leave me-”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” he replied as steadily as he could, given the circumstances. “How did you end up here? How- how do I get you out-”

“Dedue,  _ please,  _ just go,” his father begged. “If you get caught here…”

Dedue ignored him, handing the torch through the bars- his father, frowning, took it- and lifting his axe from his back instead. “Stand back,” he warned. His father looked even more panicked.

_ “Don’t-  _ if you make too much noise he’ll come-”

“Father,  _ please.”  _ Dedue eyed the bars, searching his hardest for a weak spot. There was one whose base was a little twisted- if he struck it at the right angle, he could-

His father gasped sharply, eyes going wide, and it hit Dedue in a single, chilling moment that he was looking at something  _ behind  _ him.  _ “No,”  _ his father breathed, stumbling over his own feet until his back hit the wall of the cell. The torch fell from his hands, extinguishing itself on the stone floor with a hiss and leaving them plunged into darkness, only moonlight filtering through the small window.

Heart pounding in his ears, Dedue turned around, hands curling around his axe so tightly he could feel the wood start to splinter a little under his fingers. He wasn’t exactly expecting to see much in the darkness, but he didn’t need to.

A part of him already knew exactly what was going to meet him when he turned.

The cold moonlight glinted off a single, chilling blue eye, the exact shade that had been haunting him for weeks, now. It was the same shade as the flowers in his garden and the ones on the bushes outside, the same shade from his dreams, and standing there, even frozen in fear, a part of Dedue could only think that it was beautiful.

The moonlight didn’t reveal much else, but it didn’t need to- he didn’t need to see to know that he would be met with tangled golden fur, a hulking form still cast largely in shadow but all too familiar nonetheless.

It was the beast from his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter...... which i will post in like five minutes....... the meet-cute continues. valid to hold hands ur first meeting? (yes)


	4. Dimitri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand here's chapter 4. my continued consolation for u all after my like week of not updating ;( at any rate.... the yearning begins now

“You-” Dedue breathed, barely aware of his own voice if not for the way his breath puffed a fog in the cool air. He did not get much more out before his back was hitting the bars, axe clattering to the floor as the beast moved faster than he could keep up with.

_ “You,”  _ the beast growled, suddenly all too close to his face. The cool light glinted over curving fangs, and Dedue swallowed hard. This was what his father had been so afraid of, but… 

“How did you get in here? Have you come just like the last to spy on me?” the beast spat. His single eye narrowed, and Dedue couldn’t help but notice just how  _ human  _ it looked, how underneath the rage there was a sort of pain he couldn’t quite place. “Or are you the witch herself, merely changed form?”

The beast accentuated the words with a snarl, baring his fangs in what was clearly meant to be intimidation, but the last sentence somehow failed to hide an undercurrent that was more sad than anything. Almost like he didn’t quite trust himself; almost like he couldn’t entirely be sure what was real.

It was almost like… he was afraid.

And somehow, Dedue couldn’t bring himself to be.

“I am no witch,” he said softly, raising his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture. The beast’s gaze flicked down for a moment, but beyond that he didn’t move. Dedue could only hope that was a good thing. “And I mean you no harm. I am only here for my father.”

The beast seemed appeased, slightly; his ears twitched back, something that might even have been cute if the current situation was not what it was. “Your… father?” he said softly, voice rolling over the word almost as if it were foreign to him. For all Dedue knew, it was.

“Yes,” Dedue replied, slowly shifting back a little. The beast did not seem to mind, relaxing his grip slightly. “May I ask why you have… imprisoned him?”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

The beast, who had clearly been letting his guard down at least a little, tensed all too suddenly, claws digging into Dedue’s shoulders. Before he had time to think of how to soothe him again, the beast was barking out a laugh that sounded too harsh, too strained. “Ha! And am I meant to believe that drivel? Do not lie to me. You’re a spy just like him, aren’t you?”

There wasn’t as much conviction in his tone as the words might warrant. And still, there was that undercurrent of fear… of  _ hurt.  _ It was like the beast didn’t  _ want  _ to believe what he was saying. Dedue didn’t flinch.

“I believe you can tell that I am not,” he said softly, placing a hand over the beast’s paw where the claws digging in were starting to hurt. The beast let him. “Will you hear me out, at least?”

The beast’s tail flicked listlessly, brushing Dedue’s leg. The contact was nearly gentle. “...You are not afraid of me,” he mumbled, his single blue eye wide in a way that was more confused than anything. Vulnerable, even. “Why are you not- repulsed-”

His speech grew stilted, eye going a little glazed, a little distant. Hesitantly, Dedue slipped his hand under the paw loosening at his shoulder, holding it as gently as he could; it was surprisingly soft in his grasp, more like a hand than he had thought at first. “You should be  _ afraid,”  _ the beast said after a moment, in the least threatening tone Dedue had heard from him yet. Really, it was almost mild, still confused, and with that same fear, that same hurt running through it.

“But I am not,” Dedue responded evenly. And despite the fact that his pulse was still pounding in his ears, it was true; the beast did not frighten him. Not when he was so  _ human,  _ so vulnerable. “You imprisoned my father because you believed him to be a spy, yes?”

It took the beast a moment to process the question, blinking slowly; he looked as though he was in a haze. Dedue carefully guided his other paw off his shoulder until he was clasping both of the beast’s paws- hands?- in front of him. “I… yes,” he mumbled, leaning almost unconsciously closer to Dedue. It wasn’t threatening. Really, it was more like he was seeking… comfort. Warmth.

He looked so  _ lost. _

“And you can see now that he is not, yes?” Dedue urged, lacing his fingers between the beast’s. He blinked, a little of the haze behind his eye clearing.

“I- yes, but he was still- he shouldn’t have been here- I have no way to tell you’re not lying to me-”

“You don’t,” Dedue replied simply. The beast’s paws- hands- whichever- flexed in his grasp, but he made no attempt to drop them. “I suppose you will just have to trust me.”

“And why should I do that?” the beast asked. The growl was back in his voice, but after how vulnerable he had appeared just moments before, it failed to mask how  _ small  _ his voice was, how  _ tired.  _ Dedue got the feeling he had not trusted anyone for a very long time.

“I have made no move yet to harm you,” Dedue pointed out. “There have been several opportunities.”

The beast flinched a little at that, hackles raising a moment before dropping almost defeatedly. “Maybe- maybe so. But- I don’t-”

“May I suggest a bargain?” Dedue asked softly when it became clear that the beast did not quite know what to say. There was something in him that was  _ drawn  _ to him, something that  _ needed  _ to know more. Some part of him needed to chase that blue that kept appearing in his dreams, night after night, needed to find out  _ why,  _ and so…

“An exchange, of sorts.”

The beast huffed out air in what may have been surprise. Really, he was startlingly easy to read for one with so few human features; it was all in his eye, all in that brilliant blue. “What do you mean by that?”

Dedue threw a glance back to his father, who had been sitting in terrified quiet the whole time, before turning back to meet the beast’s gaze steadily. “You release my father, and I will stay and work at the castle with you until I have proved to you that you can trust me.”

“Dedue, _ no!”  _ his father cried, and Dedue turned to him again, trying his best to look reassuring. The beast did not try to stop him when he crouched, reaching a hand through the bars to take his father’s.

“Father, it will be alright, I promise. Go. I swear I will return to you soon.”

“Dedue, I can’t allow you to do this- you can’t-”

“I want to,” he said softly, unwavering. His father’s eyes widened, watery with tears, mouth opening in a protest that did not fully form. Dedue squeezed his hand, smiling gently; he knew his conviction had to be apparent. “I promise. You are needed back at home.”

He did not bother to explain just how  _ much  _ he wanted to stay a while longer- just how much he wanted to find out just what about the beast intrigued him so much, about what exactly was drawing him to this place. He  _ needed  _ to know, needed to stay, needed to learn if this place could be the answer to the part of him that had always quietly yearned for  _ more. _

“I… accept your offer,” the beast said softly, voice gravelly, shaky. Dedue gave his father’s hand one last squeeze before turning and standing again, meeting the beast’s gaze. Whatever hurt lay hidden behind that blue eye… he wanted to know. He  _ had _ to know.

“Thank you,” Dedue said earnestly, extending his hand. The beast looked confused for a moment before taking it. Dedue had meant it as a handshake, but the beast did not drop his hand, squeezing it gently instead. Or at least, as gently as it seemed he could manage; the grip was still tighter than average. Still… was he trying to be reassuring? Accepting?

It was almost cute.

“Dedue…” his father breathed softly, and Dedue turned to him once more as the beast produced a key from within the cloak that lay draped over his shoulders, doing nothing to hide his mass. His claws glinted in the moonlight, and he cursed as he could not seem to fit the key in the lock, skittering over the hole. Judging by the scratch marks around it, this seemed to be a recurring problem for him, Dedue noted.

“Allow me,” he said, placing his other hand over the beast’s. He stilled in his motions, relinquishing control, and Dedue unlocked the door before handing the key back to him with a nod. The beast looked utterly lost at the actions.

“You…” he began, but could not seem to think of more to say.

Dedue’s father stumbled forward on shaky legs, still looking terrified, and Dedue dropped the beast’s hand in order to pull him into a tight hug. His father was shaking, and it made every part of him ache to see someone who had always been so strong, so solid, so constant in his life… so  _ afraid. _

“I promise I’ll be home soon,” he murmured. “I love you.”

“This- this should not be your burden to bear-” his father responded, voice barely above a whisper and overwhelmingly  _ sad.  _ “You don’t know that he will ever let you go-”

“He won’t hurt me,” Dedue said evenly, and although he had no way to prove it, he  _ knew  _ with every part of his being that it was true. “Go.”

“I love you,” his father breathed, and then stepped back, tears streaming down his cheeks. Dedue smiled sadly, shifting back a little as the beast stepped forward.

“There is a carriage… in the stables,” he informed Dedue’s father, stumbling over the words awkwardly. He seemed almost sheepish, ashamed of himself. “It does not have a horse, but… it does not need one. It will take you home.”

The beast glanced beyond him, then, out the door, eye narrowing. “Sylvain, Felix, I know you have been watching. Would you show this man the way to the stables?”

The skittering Dedue had noticed earlier echoed across the floor again, and two tiny forms emerged from the shadows. He blinked hard as they stepped into the candlelight- a candlestick and a clock, undeniably moving, undeniably alive.

Ah, well. The night could not really get much stranger.

“Why don’t you just show him yourself?” the clock muttered, sounding angry enough that despite how mild the words were it appeared to be a jab, and oh, Dedue noted, that had been the owner of the second voice he had heard, then.

“Felix, shut up,” the candlestick hissed, nudging him. That had been the first voice. “We’d be  _ delighted  _ to show you the way.” He bent in what might have been an approximation of a bow.

His father cast one last, sad look at Dedue, and he raised his hand in a half-wave, still smiling as reassuringly as he could. “It will be alright,” he urged, voice soft, and it was enough for his father to turn and follow the candlestick as he hopped away. The clock lingered for a second, casting a glare at the beast and Dedue, before following as well.

And then he was alone with the beast.

“You… should be scared of me,” the beast echoed his earlier words, so softly that Dedue felt he was not meant to hear. He sounded  _ lost,  _ like a basic pillar of his life had just crumbled to dust and he was not wholly sure how to support what remained.

“But I am not,” Dedue reminded him, and the beast jerked. So he had been right- he wasn’t meant to hear that. He almost laughed- he was not very good at subtlety, then.

“I- ah,” the beast murmured, shifting from foot to foot a little, almost endearing in the action. “I could show you to… a room. If you’d like.”

Dedue couldn’t help but extend his hand again, smiling when the beast froze a moment before taking it. He looked a little lost, still, like the contact was something he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with.

But like it was something he wished for more of.

“I would like that,” Dedue said softly. The beast’s ears flicked towards him as he spoke, again almost endearing- it was a motion he didn’t even seem to be aware of. “Thank you…” he began, then furrowed his brow. “Ah. Do you… have a name…?” He felt a little ridiculous for asking, but then again, everything that had happened to him today had been ridiculous. That morning seemed a lifetime away, now.

“Ah!” The beast breathed, looking a little surprised. Dedue wondered when the last time he had been asked that was, if ever. He seemed so used to being feared, to shutting people out… perhaps it was overhasty, like everything he had done that night, but Dedue wanted to be let  _ in. _

“I- my name is Dimitri,” the beast murmured, voice shaking around the word like he was… afraid of it. Like he didn’t think he deserved to be called by it. “You- you don’t have to-”

“Dimitri.” The name felt  _ right  _ on Dedue’s tongue, like something warm and sweet and gentle, something the beast before him was not, but… something he  _ could  _ be. Something Dedue wanted to bring out of him. “It suits you.”

Dimitri didn’t seem to know what to say to that, blinking owlishly at him with something indescribable in his single eye before turning with a swish of his cloak and leading Dedue out into the hall. He hid a smile as he followed him.

The halls of the castle seemed considerably less intimidating, now; Dimitri clearly knew how to navigate them in the dark, and he moved swiftly, surely. His presence at Dedue’s side was almost comforting. He did not drop his hand. 

There was a steady kernel of warmth taking root in his chest, now, and he couldn’t tell what it was going to blossom into. There was just something about Dimitri, about how gentle the grasp on his hand was, how he was taking care to keep his claws from touching Dedue’s bare skin, that made Dedue want… he wasn’t sure what it made him want.

Some part of himself had already attached itself to him, though, from the moment that the blue had first entered his dreams. If Dedue knew one thing for sure, it was that he wasn’t going to leave until he found out  _ why. _

Despite the warmth of Dimitri at his side, Dedue couldn’t help but shiver as they made their way through halls that seemed endless. The castle was undeniably cold, in a way he had been able to ignore during their confrontation, but it was beginning to seep into his bones, and he had only his father’s scarf for warmth.

Dimitri’s ears flicked again as he turned to Dedue. “Are you cold?” he asked tentatively. It was evident he was doing his best to be… gentle. Dedue shook his head.

“No- I will be alright. I do not mind the cold.” A lie, but-

“So you  _ are  _ cold, then,” Dimitri said softly. Before Dedue could protest, he was shrugging off his cloak, draping it over his shoulders with a single hand. The other stayed twined with Dedue’s, something that made him feel… warmer, even, than the cloak itself, which was thick and soft, warm with Dimitri’s body heat.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, drawing it closer around himself. He couldn’t deny that it was a comfort.

Dimitri hummed an acknowledgement, leading him onwards.

They were rejoined by the clock and the candlestick as they turned another corner and wound up in the hall Dedue had entered when he’d first arrived. A fire was blazing in the hearth, now, casting the room into warm light.

“There you guys are,” the candlestick said cheerily. His voice was a little too strained for it to be genuine. “Our… guest… has departed.”

“Thank you, Sylvain,” Dimitri said softly. “Felix.”

The candlestick looked shocked, while the clock just scoffed. “So you’re pretending to be a  _ person _ today? Like we haven’t all seen the truth? Like  _ he  _ doesn’t know what you really are?” The last part was directed at Dedue, and he furrowed his brow.

“Felix,  _ not now,”  _ the candlestick- Sylvain?- hissed. “Ignore him,” he said louder, looking at Dedue and waving. “Felix is just… like that.”

“I… see,” he said slowly, glancing at Dimitri. He was outwardly unaffected, but his grip on Dedue’s hand had grown a little tighter, his eye going a little glassier. It was almost painful how easy he was to read, within such a short time of knowing him.

Still, it felt like he had  _ always _ known him.

_ “Thank you, Felix,”  _ Dimitri said, and his voice was a little softer, a little tighter. The clock didn’t answer him, huffing and turning away.

The candlestick, meanwhile, hopped onto a table with surprising grace. “I’m Sylvain,” he said, extending a candle to Dedue. Bemused, he took it between his fingers to shake.

“Dedue,” he responded quietly. It hit him, from Dimitri’s gentle intake of breath, that he had not yet told him his name. Ah.

“Dedue…” Dimitri murmured, soft and slow, as though he were trying it out. The name sounded almost reverent coming from him.

Or maybe Dedue was imagining things. No matter.

“Welcome to the palace!” Sylvain grinned. It was honestly surprising how expressive he was, considering his face was made of wax, but then again, the fact  _ he was made of wax  _ was surprising enough on its own. Vaguely, Dedue wondered when he had decided to just accept all that was happening at face value. “And, ah…” Sylvain leaned a little closer, voice dropping, and Dedue obliged, leaning in so he was a breath away. “I don’t know… what you did to get Dimitri… like this. I haven’t seen him calm down from one of his…  _ things…  _ this quickly in years. So, ah, thank you.”

It was the most sincere he had sounded all night.

Dedue’s heart ached, thinking again of the years of hurt behind Dimitri’s eye. Whatever had made him this way… the fact that he had helped, at least a little, felt good. “Of course,” he told Sylvain, smiling softly. He returned it.

“Sylvain, is the room in the east wing still mostly intact?” Dimitri asked quietly. Dedue stepped back, a little, closer to Dimitri’s sphere of warmth. Sylvain paused a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, I think so. Is… Dedue truly going to be staying with us?”

Dedue nodded in Dimitri’s place. “For a time, yes, I think so.” He did not miss the trace of concern that flashed over Sylvain’s face, and shook his head slightly. He was far from afraid.

“Ah… alright. Yeah, I can go check,” Sylvain said, already moving to hop off the table.

“Wait- would you, ah, have Mercedes prepare tea?” Dimitri asked softly. “For…  _ Dedue.”  _ Dedue had never heard his name said so gently before. It was…

He wasn’t sure what it was. He wasn’t sure if it had been nearly long enough to face that, yet.

Sylvain shot them one last glance before leaping from the table and skittering off, surprisingly fast for one who didn’t have legs. Dedue didn’t have much time to ponder that, though, before Dimitri was tugging him onward, up a flight of stairs on the opposite side of the hall. He followed swiftly.

Dimitri paused before a large, ornate door at the start of a corridor off of the landing, glancing at Dedue with something that looked almost like nervousness. “This, ah. This is where you’ll be staying,” he mumbled. Dedue smiled.

“Thank you, Dimitri,” he said softly. He had not yet dropped his hand.

Dimitri stood frozen for a moment, eye wide as he stared at him, before backpedaling a little. His hand slipped from his grasp, and Dedue instantly missed the contact. “I’ll. Leave you to settle in, then,” he said, and Dedue blinked.

“Thank you,” he said again, watching as Dimitri nearly stumbled walking away. His tail swished wildly behind him; a part of Dedue itched to touch it. He ignored that urge, turning and opening the doors to his room instead. It was dark, a little chilly, but a moment later a light appeared at his side.

Sylvain grinned when Dedue glanced down at him. “Figured you could use the light,” he murmured. “Mercedes- ah, she’s a friend, you’ll meet her soon enough- should be over with tea soon.” He followed as Dedue stepped into the room, moving to the hearth and holding a candle out long enough for it to light.

“Is Mercedes, ah…” Dedue trailed off, not quite sure how to ask. Sylvain seemed to get the hint.

“A teapot, yeah,” he replied, staring into the fire, expression resigned. “She didn’t… used to be that way. None of us did.”

“What happened?” Dedue asked. Sylvain seemed so suddenly exhausted, like the outgoing bravado had been drained from him all at once.

“Dimitri, he… it wasn’t his fault, really,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the crackle of the fireplace. “There was… a witch. She wanted the kingdom. Nine years ago, she orchestrated the murder of his parents, but she couldn’t quite get rid of him. So four years after that, she… came back. Didn’t kill us, but cursed the whole damn place.” Sylvain barked a laugh that had no humor to it at all. “So here we are now. Few more months till our time runs out.”

So Dimitri…  _ oh. _

A few too many pieces suddenly fell into place- pieces that might have been why Dedue had been so drawn to the palace in the first place. He had been too young when the royal family (but not  _ all  _ of the royal family, if this meant what he thought it did) had been killed, too young when his family had fled, to remember much, but… maybe, just maybe, he really did belong here. Maybe, if Dimitri was who he thought he was… 

But their  _ time was running out.  _ Dedue wanted to ask what Sylvain meant by that, but judging by the way he had sounded, he was done talking. He didn’t push him.

“I… am sorry,” he offered instead.

Sylvain sighed.

“Yeah. I am, too.”

They were saved from the awkward silence that would surely have settled- Dedue was never much of a talker- by the door swinging open again. A tea cart rolled in, followed by the clock- Felix- who looked angry again. Dedue was beginning to think that was his natural state.

“Oh, you must be Dedue!” the teapot chirped, hopping forward on the cart. Mercedes, then. “We’re all delighted to have you here.”

“Speak for yourself,” Felix muttered, avoiding Dedue’s gaze. “Sylvain, come on. I need to talk to you for a second.”

The way Sylvain brightened a moment, looking almost hopeful, was apparent. Dedue wondered just what exactly his relationship with Felix  _ was. _

“Alright then,” Sylvain grinned, following him as he left the room. “Later, guys.”

Mercedes sighed softly. “Those two… I hope they haven’t bothered you.”

“Not at all,” Dedue replied. “Mercedes, yes?”

She smiled, painted features brightening. “Indeed! And these-” she moved aside, and two teacups hopped forward, each with painted freckles splashed across porcelain faces- “are Ashe and Annette. Would you like tea?”

He nodded a hello to Ashe and Annette, smiling. “I’m alright for now. Actually, I… had a few questions.”

Mercedes hummed sympathetically. “Oh, I’d assume you would. I can’t imagine what this day has felt like for you. I’ll answer if I can.” Her tone was undoubtedly sincere. Dedue had a feeling that, if he were to remain here, she could become a trusted friend.

“We’ll help too!” Annette piped up, grinning enthusiastically. Mercedes chuckled.

“Of course, Annie! Now, Dedue, what did you have on your mind?”

“Sylvain… mentioned you do not have much time left. What did he mean by that?” he asked. Mercedes’s face fell.

“Ah. That.” She sighed softly, glancing downwards; Annette made an unhappy noise as well. Ashe couldn’t meet his eyes.

“If… you do not wish to talk about it you do not have to-” he began, but Mercedes cut him off.

“It’s quite alright. It’s just, well… the curse we’re all under has a time limit, you see,” she explained. Her voice was that of one already resigned to their fate. “If certain… conditions are not met by Dimitri’s twenty-third birthday, well… we will become fully inanimate, and he will become a mindless beast.” She shuddered a little. “He will have no recollection of who he once was.”

“And what are those conditions?” Dedue pressed. Mercedes looked him up and down with a critical eye. It seemed her gaze lingered on the cloak.

“Perhaps… it is better if we do not tell you. Just yet, at least,” she decided. Annette giggled, and Ashe nudged her. Dedue furrowed his brow, but nodded. He wasn’t in any place to complain, really.

“Very well. Thank you anyways, Mercedes.”

She hummed softly. “May I ask a question of my own?”

He nodded.

“Why… why did you stay? I couldn’t get an answer out of Felix. And is that… Dimitri’s cloak?”

Dedue smiled softly, tugging the cloak a little tighter around his shoulders. The weight was comforting, even as the room warmed. “It is. And… I offered to stay in exchange for my father’s freedom, but…” He trailed off, unsure how to explain it. “There is something in me that is… drawn here, to this place. I want to find out why. And Dimitri…” he trailed off, feeling himself flush. It seemed ridiculous to say it out loud. “He is…  _ human.” _

_ Vulnerable. Frightened. Broken. But… kind. _

He did not voice these thoughts, did not say more. Really, he did not need to; Annette filled the silence almost instantly with excited babbling.

“So, how long are you gonna stay for? Have you and Dimitri talked much? Oh, have you met everyone else? You have to let me show you around-”

“Annette, give him a second to breathe!” Ashe laughed. Mercedes smiled fondly at their chatter, but kept her gaze fixed on Dedue. He felt all too exposed- like she could see through him.

“I am glad you see who Dima really is, as well,” she murmured. “That is more than I can hope for.”

He did not ask her what she meant.

Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette left soon after, when it became evident just how exhausted Dedue was, the stress of the day finally catching up with him. He fell asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow, Dimitri’s cloak still wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

Had he stayed awake a moment longer, though, he might have noticed that the cloak was the exact same shade of blue that had followed him, the same shade of blue that had led him here, the same shade that was the reason he stayed.

But he didn’t.

His sleep that night was dreamless for the first time in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedue, waking up in a cold sweat hours later and realizing he's left his axe on the floor in some tower somewhere: ah fuck
> 
> (next chapter: edelgaston, an epic duet performed by ferdinand and hubert)


	5. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG!! school has been kickin my ass... im so sorry this is all i have to offer u. thanksgiving break is a lil bit of a reprieve so here... have some wildly self-indulgent ferdiehubie for the sake of obligatory edelgaston scene that really is just mostly schmoop. sorry 2 everyone involved

Going out for drinks had been Ferdinand’s idea (he had claimed it would help Edelgard take her mind off of things), and only an hour into the night, he was already utterly sloshed. Hubert smiled fondly from where he was seated with Edelgard, watching Ferdinand attempt to rouse the rest of the tavern into some sort of drinking song. Unbelievably, it was working, mostly due to the fact that it was hard for people to say no to Ferdinand- his natural charm was dizzying, radiant.

The fact that to deny Ferdinand would be to anger Hubert, something absolutely no one wanted to do, was also implied. But people would follow his husband regardless of any unspoken threat; that was just who Ferdinand was. Hubert’s hand drifted unconsciously to the ring on his opposite finger. Flames, he was the luckiest man on earth.

Edelgard, for her part, looked as though she felt decidedly  _ un _ lucky, and mostly like this night was not helping her even remotely. She hadn’t taken a single sip of her drink (then again, Hubert hadn’t either, but alcohol didn’t have much effect on him. He’d spent too long building an immunity to most poisons for something like beer to make him bat an eye).

“Would you like to leave?” he asked her softly, leaning a little closer to be heard over the noise of the raucous crowd Ferdinand had managed to stir. She sighed, leaning her head on one hand.

“No, it’s alright, Hubert.” Her lips quirked into a brief smile as she cast a quick glance towards Ferdinand, who was attempting to clamber onto a table. Hubert itched with a protective urge, but he knew that his husband could handle himself, even if he looked very much in danger of slipping. “We should let Ferdinand have his fun, shouldn’t we?”

Hubert was inclined to agree, but he knew Edelgard too well to ignore her obvious gloom. “We should, but…”

She shot him a look that told him she knew what he was about to say, and he let the protest trail off. She didn’t need him to point out how much the recent deaths had been weighing on her, how stressed she was over the fact that they had no idea what was out there. Rumors of a beast were just that- rumors- but the bite marks they had found on the helmet… were undeniable.

There was  _ something  _ in the woods, something dangerous, and here they were at the town’s tavern instead of planning on how to stop it. Really, they hadn’t a moment to lose, but… well, how could he ever say no to Ferdinand? Perhaps trying to relax their minds for a moment would not particularly be a bad thing.

“I am here if you wish for me to listen,” he said instead, and she smiled gratefully.

“Thank you as always, Hubert,” she murmured. “It’s just… we aren’t doing enough, are we? Whatever’s out there could come for us at any minute, and we wouldn’t have any preparation.”

“We will not be able to do much until we are able to convince Molinaro to forge the weapons we need,” he pointed out. Edelgard’s shoulders sagged a little, and he added, “We are doing all that we can. _You _are doing all that you can.”

She hummed softly, not outright denying his words, and he supposed it was the best he could hope for from her right now, with things the way they were. Still, not being able to do more to at least get her mind off things irked him.

Before he could think of something to say that might dissolve her mood, though, arms were draping themselves over the back of his chair and he turned in time for Ferdinand to place a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Why aren’t you two having fun out there?” he asked, clearly trying to be quiet and a little too drunk to manage it. “Come join me.” And oh, even like this he was radiant, hair half-falling out of the ponytail it was swept up into and framing flushed cheeks, wide eyes, lips twisting into a pout, and Hubert would give him the world if he asked for it.

“Darling, come join  _ us,”  _ he murmured instead, brushing a strand of hair out of Ferdinand’s eyes. “Surely you must be tired by now. All that singing you’re doing.” The words were meant to be teasing, but even he could tell how unbearably  _ fond  _ he sounded. Ferdinand just… made him something nearly unrecognizable, something utterly divorced from the cold self he had cultivated so carefully, made him  _ warm  _ in ways Hubert had not thought he ever could be.

Ferdinand grinned, and even drunk it was just that exact brand of calculating that let Hubert know he was maybe not quite so inebriated as he appeared. “Surely  _ you  _ must be tired of sitting here brooding, love. Tonight is supposed to be about giving ourselves a break! Dance with me?”

He was tugging Hubert out of his seat- and oh, it was easy to forget how  _ strong  _ Ferdinand was sometimes- before he could protest, sending him stumbling a little. Ferdinand steadied him with a hand on his waist, grinning, and he might as well have been looking directly into the sun. It was impossible to deny him.

He cast a glance over his shoulder at Edelgard, and she smiled, waving a hand. It did not reach her eyes. “Go on,” she said softly, encouraging. “I’ll be alright.”

He was still loathe to leave her so concerned about the looming threat to the town in order to dance with his husband, but… she would worry whether he was there or not, he supposed. He was still working on accepting that he was allowed to want things for himself, even at Edelgard’s urging; he couldn’t help but feel guilty as he turned away.

Shifting his focus back to Ferdinand made it easier. Ferdinand always made it easier.

“You’re thinking too hard,” his husband informed him gently, brushing his bangs away from his face even while leading him towards the crowd. “You’re allowed to let go, Hubie.”

Hubert swallowed hard, his grip on Ferdinand’s hand tightening. How did he always know when he started to doubt? “You… know how I feel about that nickname, darling,” he said softly. Deflecting. As if Ferdinand would let him.

“I do,” Ferdinand said simply, tugging him closer as they reached the dancefloor. “And I know that what you need right now is to  _ relax.”  _ His voice dropped an octave, and Hubert couldn’t help the shiver that ran up his spine at that; flames, but he would do anything this man asked of him.

“...Very well,” he conceded, and any humiliation that dancing was surely about to bring was worth it for the way Ferdinand lit up. Hubert was never one for public displays of affection, but he couldn’t deny the warmth that settled deep in his chest when Ferdinand tugged him into a kiss, quick and uncoordinated. “Thank you, darling,” he breathed against his lips when he pulled away, and Ferdinand hummed happily.

“Of course, love,” he grinned, leading Hubert into an approximation of a waltz. He felt a bit ridiculous, stumbling over his own feet next to Ferdinand’s natural grace, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Ferdinand had been right- perhaps he  _ had _ needed this distraction.

Hubert allowed himself to be led for a while longer, content to follow, content to let his husband slowly make the rest of the rest of the world fade into a blur. Ferdinand was a balm on his senses, truly, sunlight even on the darkest days, and even after years of marriage it never ceased to amaze him how  _ lucky  _ he’d gotten.

Ferdinand paused in his steps, blinking up at him with wide amber eyes, and something in Hubert’s chest twisted, something that made him lean down with a sudden, consuming need to be  _ closer.  _ “Ferdie…” he breathed, and Ferdinand chuckled, hand tightening on his waist.

“Hubert.” He did not say more, did not need to. Something he found in Hubert’s eyes made his lips curl into a smile, warm and just a hint cunning, and it was everything that was so unbearably  _ Ferdinand,  _ everything that had made Hubert fall in love with him in the first place. “Follow me?”

“Anywhere,” he said, and he meant it.

Well, perhaps not  _ anywhere,  _ he was forced to realize a moment later, as Ferdinand took this as an invitation to haul him bodily onto the nearest table.  _ “Ferdinand!”  _ he hissed, stumbling against him. His cheeks blazed, but he couldn’t quite be angry, not when his husband laughed like  _ that  _ and he could listen to the sound forever. “Darling, I have a  _ reputation  _ to uphold-”

“They’re all too drunk to care whether Mister Scary, Tall, and Brooding is dancing on a table or not,” Ferdinand teased, grinning. Hubert sighed, but couldn’t help returning the smile.

He’d never smiled quite so much before as he did with Ferdinand.

“And you  _ aren’t  _ too drunk, yourself?” he teased back. Ferdinand’s grin turned cheeky.

“Love, I’m just drunk enough to only care if you’re  _ not  _ on the table. Now come on- dance with me.”

And oh, Hubert couldn’t possibly deny him that.

“Here’s the plan,” Ferdinand murmured, leaning in close enough that his breath ghosted over the shell of Hubert’s ear. Hubert tried not to think about the waltz Ferdinand was leading him through, tried not to worry about stepping in someone’s glass. He  _ definitely  _ tried not to think about the fact that people were following Ferdinand’s lead, certainly as drunk as his husband had claimed, and the table was shaking worryingly.

At least they weren’t the only ones, he supposed.

“Plan?” He stumbled over a knot in the wood of the table, nearly sending them both over the edge before Ferdinand steadied him. Dancing was… not his  _ thing.  _ “What, have you come up with a solution to whatever’s lurking in the woods while you were singing?”

Ferdinand let out a  _ hmph.  _ “Will you let yourself relax even for a moment? You know there’s nothing we can do right now, not until we have the weapons.” There was a sweet kind of irony, really, in the fact that he was echoing Hubert’s earlier words. Edelgard had told him only a short while ago that they were rubbing off on each other. Perhaps she was right.

He sighed- he couldn’t deny Ferdinand’s point, especially when he had told Edelgard the same thing himself. “You are… correct, darling.” Ferdinand’s grin turned triumphant, and Hubert couldn’t resist a gentle jab. “...A rarity.”

Ferdinand draped a hand over his forehead dramatically.  _ “Hubie.  _ My moon and my stars. How you wound me!” He couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice, and Hubert wanted to kiss the curve of his lips more than anything.

“Anything for you,” he purred instead, trying and failing to appear serious. Ferdinand laughed again and pressed a kiss to his cheek, one Hubert couldn’t resist melting into. But… “Wait, no, darling. You mentioned a plan, yes?”

“Ah,” Ferdinand murmured, looking a little put-out. Hubert resolved to make it up to him later. “Yes, yes.  _ We-” _ and here he gestured between the two of them, a little uncoordinated, and ended up smacking Hubert in the chest- “are going to get Edelgard’s mind off of things.”

Hubert furrowed his brow incredulously. “Not that I wouldn’t love to, darling, but how do you propose we do that?  _ This…  _ isn’t exactly working.”

“We’ll sing her a song!” Ferdinand grinned, almost unbelievable in his sincerity. Hubert stared flatly.

“No, really, Ferdie. Do tell me you’re joking.”

Ferdinand actually  _ pouted,  _ and  _ flames-  _ weak man that he was, Hubert could almost feel his resolve starting to crumble.

Damn it, but he would walk into fire if Ferdinand asked.

“I couldn’t be more serious, love. We can rouse the whole tavern- it’ll distract her, at least-”

“Right, distract her by utterly  _ humiliating  _ her, darling. How much have you had to drink, again?”

(He didn’t think it wise to point how things had gone for Edelgard the last time someone had written a song for her, how it would probably stir up memories she would rather forget. None of them had spoken to Dorothea in years, not since she’d joined the opera company all the way in Brigid, but he knew Edelgard still remembered, still did not listen to opera at all, still did not look at the roses that were so popular in Bernadetta’s flower shop.)

Ferdinand sighed and let Hubert tug him off the table and back towards their seats, not before snagging another tankard (which Hubert deftly plucked from his hands, ignoring his protests). “Fine.  _ Be  _ that way. Ruin my efforts- I  _ knew  _ you’d be no fun-”

“I am  _ quite  _ fun,” Hubert protested, trying his best to ignore the bemused glance Edelgard sent their way as they reached their seats. At least she didn’t look as gloomy anymore. 

Ferdinand’s grin turned a little wicked, and before Hubert could sit he caught him by the wrist and tugged him into his lap. “You’ll have to prove that to me when we get home, then, love,” he murmured, unable to keep the laugh from his voice. Hubert shoved at him half-heartedly.

_ “Ferdinand!  _ Some  _ decency,” _ he hissed, desperately glancing around. At least no one was watching them- no one but Edelgard, who was covering her hand with her mouth and clearly trying to hide a laugh.

“Incorrigible,” she said, lips curling with amusement, but her voice was fond. Hubert sighed as Ferdinand’s hand snaked around his waist, trying his best to ignore how undignified the position was.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked, directing his attention to Edelgard. Ferdinand’s hand tightened a little at being ignored. He swatted at him, doing his best to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“Really, you shouldn’t worry-” she began, glancing away. Hubert furrowed his brow, and Ferdinand’s hand relaxed as he leaned around him to survey Edelgard too.

“That is not what I asked,” he pointed out. She sighed.

“Surely there has to be more we could do.”

Ferdinand brightened, shifting fully in his seat to face her; Hubert pulled a face as the movement jostled him. “Oh! We could always go through my books. Collecting volumes on weapons has always been a hobby of mine. There might be designs there we haven’t thought of yet.”

Edelgard hummed, arching a brow. “Perhaps. It couldn’t hurt to try.”

Hubert squeezed Ferdinand’s hand, a silent  _ thank you;  _ Edelgard looked a little better at the thought of being able to do  _ something.  _ Ferdinand returned the gesture, pressing his lips to his neck with a smile. More likely than not, the books wouldn’t be much help, old and outdated as they were, but-

The tavern door slammed open with a noise like a gunshot, audible even above the noise of the crowd, and Hubert’s hand was at the knife concealed in his sleeve before he had even fully turned to register who had entered.

“...Molinaro?” he asked, brow furrowed, as the man staggered out of the rain and into the light of the tavern. A hush abruptly fell as more people noticed him, noticed the blood crusted on his leg and the wild look in his eyes. Hubert rose from his seat, placing a hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder as he tried to stand with him.

They had just spoken to the man’s son that morning. He had said he would be out of town for a few more days, had not revealed more- Hubert had assumed it was a supply run, regular for a blacksmith. The weapons they had wanted, though, needed to be forged with umbral steel, and that was only available… from Arianrhod.

Through the woods.

A lightning storm, a spooked horse, whatever lurked in the woods… 

And now he was back, terrified and shivering, and- and stumbling forward, clasping Hubert’s arm when he moved to catch him before he collapsed.

“Von Vestra,” he breathed, voice ragged. “I’ll do it. I’ll forge the weapons. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“A… sudden change of heart,” Edelgard said softly, coming to stand at Hubert’s side. Ferdinand followed her, and threaded his hand through Hubert’s. He shifted a little closer to the welcome warmth. 

Molinaro turned to Edelgard frantically, straightening the best he could; he swayed before she placed a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“The beast,” he breathed, and Hubert’s blood ran cold at the utter conviction in his tone. “It’s real. I- I saw it.”

Edelgard’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly at his shoulder, but she couldn’t quite contain the tremor in her voice when she asked, trying to remain composed, “Is… is that so?”

Molinaro nodded wildly, but despite how frantic his actions were… Hubert had seen madmen, had seen liars, and had gotten the truth out of them one way or another. This was not madness, was not a lie. “And…” he swallowed hard, shaking so badly that for a moment Hubert feared he’d collapse.

“And it’s got my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY AGAAAAIN we will return to actual plot for next chapter: be our guest scene ft annie definitely causing at least one explosion


	6. Be Our Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY ONCE MORE FOR HOW LONG IT'S BEEN!!! a bit of a longer chapter this time to try to make up for it... eventually i'll get on more of a regular update schedule. once applications are done at least. in the meantime take what's 40% be our guest scene 60% schmoop. sylvainiere is doing his best

_ “Dedue, hurry up!” his father called, soft but insistent. “We don’t want to keep the king waiting.” _

_ Dedue, laden with lances his father had finished forging the week before, nearly stumbled trying to balance their weight as he hurried through the palace doors his father was holding open. He’d only just hit his growth spurt, his fourteenth birthday a month away, and he was still unused to the extra height it afforded him; he found himself stumbling even in the most familiar places, let alone the royal palace. _

_ “Remind me again why I had to make this trip with you?” he asked softly, trying his best to see his way over the lances he was currently attempting to shift under one arm. His father only chuckled. _

_ “I just thought you might want to come along. There’s someone His Majesty has wanted you to meet for a while.” _

_ “Me?” Dedue asked, a little incredulous. “What could the king want with-” _

_ His father came to a halt in front of another set of doors, and Dedue cut himself off before he could walk right into his back and drop a lance. _

_ “Who do you think we forged the lances for?” his father grinned, pushing open the door. Dedue was about to ask what he meant, but- the king of Faerghus himself was standing on the other side, and he found himself frozen. His father was the king’s favored blacksmith, that much was true, but to be faced with the reality of it- _

_ “Ah, you must be Dedue,” the king said, smiling warmly. “Your father has told me much of you.” He stepped back a little, clearly inviting Dedue forwards, and he managed to find enough courage to bend in half a bow. _

_ “Your- Your Majesty,” he murmured, not daring to raise his eyes from the floor. “It is an honor-” _

_ “None of that,” the king said gently, and Dedue stood upright again, fumbling with the lances. “Has your father told you why I asked that he bring you along?” _

_ Dedue shook his head mutely. “I haven’t,” his father confirmed. The king’s smile grew warmer. _

_ “There is someone I would like you to meet.” _

_ He stepped aside, and a boy Dedue hadn’t noticed before emerged from behind him, wide blue eyes-  _ blue, so, so blue-  _ blinking owlishly at him. He looked incredibly similar to the king himself, blonde hair falling loose and long to his shoulders and the same wrinkle to the bridge of his nose when he smiled shyly at Dedue, offering a little wave with one gloved hand. _

_ “My son,” the king explained, giving the boy a little push forward. He extended a hand to Dedue, and this time he really did drop the lances trying to take it. They clattered as they hit the floor, rolling haphazardly every which way, and he winced; the boy jumped a little, then started laughing. _

_ It was a beautiful sound. _

_ Dedue hadn’t even realized he was staring, agape, until the boy- the  _ prince-  _ pushed a lock of hair behind his ear with a sheepish grin and extended the hand again. “Forgive me, I- I didn’t mean to laugh,” he said. His voice was soft, sweet; Dedue’s brain felt like molasses trying to catch up with what he was saying. _

_ “It- it’s alright,” he stammered. The boy laughed again, crouching to pick up a lance before Dedue could try. _

_ “Father had commissioned a lance for me to begin training with, but I’m afraid I’ve made quite a mess of things, haven’t I? Please, allow me to help.” _

_ Dedue couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face. “Thank you.” _

_ “No, no- thank  _ you!  _ These weapons are all so lovely-” the prince stopped mid-sentence, brow furrowing, before he laughed once more, a little awkwardly this time. “Oh! I did not even introduce myself, did I? My name is-” _

_ His voice twisted as Dedue took his hand, turning into an indistinguishable roar, and as Dedue watched in horror, the hand he was holding twisted too, becoming larger, harsher, claws tearing through the gloves. He stumbled back, helpless to do anything but watch as the king and his father melted away to shadows and the prince doubled over, his whole body shaking, letting out a wail as horns forced their way from his skull, as- _

_ As he turned into a beast, before Dedue’s very eyes. _

_ Dedue couldn’t move, couldn’t make his voice work, couldn’t do anything but stare as the prince- the beast- staggered upright, one lone eye-  _ still so, so blue-  _ meeting his. The gaze was desperate, wild, but… afraid. Hurt.  _ Human.

_ Dedue swallowed hard, throat fighting to make a sound, and as the beast reached a shaking hand towards him, he managed to get it out- just a single word. _

_ “Dimitri?” _

Dedue woke to the sound of murmurs near his bedside, harsh and hurried, and he froze before he could open his eyes. As awareness returned to him slowly, memories from the night before flooded back- the beast.  _ Dimitri. _ His father. The deal he made.

Had that been a dream? The last thing he remembered before waking was- was the blue of the beast’s eye (no,  _ Dimitri’s  _ eye, he thought; it didn’t feel right to think of him as anything but human now), the same as his dreams had always been. His name still felt all too heavy, all too real on his tongue.

“Just because the beast wants to play at being human doesn’t mean we should just pretend he  _ is,”  _ a voice spat, the first words he managed to make his waking mind process clearly. Oh. That was… Felix, then. The clock.

It hadn’t been a dream. This was real.

“Felix, if you don’t have anything useful to add to the conversation, I suggest you do not say anything at all,” another voice said, so sugary-sweet the threat behind the words was nearly veiled.

Nearly. That had to be Mercedes, he thought.

“I just don’t know how the rest of you can forgive him when it’s  _ his  _ fault we’re all stuck like this,” Felix continued, and Dedue furrowed his brow, but kept still. Something told him he should remain quiet a little longer. “You’ve all seen that he’s nothing more than a mindless beast. I don’t see why any of us should pretend.”

“Felix, this isn’t  _ about _ that,” a softer voice hissed. It took a moment for Dedue to place it in his mind- Annette, one of the teacups, he thought. “It’s  _ about  _ the fact that this might be our best shot at breaking the curse! I mean, he invited him to dinner- that’s as good a chance as any, right?”

“Annette’s right,” another voice added. This one was easier to recognize- Sylvain, definitely. “C’mon, Felix, we wake him up, give him Dimitri’s dinner invitation, wait a while,  _ boom,  _ curse fixed, we’re home free.”

Felix scoffed. “As if it’s that easy. You really think that  _ thing  _ is capable of actual feelings anymore?”

“Much as I hate to say it, Felix might be right,” another voice chimed in, one Dedue did not recognize. “Not about Dimitri, but- are we really going to pin all our hopes on someone he’s just met? And he’s been asleep all day- I just don’t think…”

“Not you too, Ingrid,” Sylvain protested. “I mean, come  _ on.  _ You all saw how he got through to him last night. When have any of us managed that?”

“For what it’s worth, I think he’s got a better shot than anyone else,” a quieter voice added. That had to be Ashe. “Sylvain’s right. Dimitri hasn’t let anyone in like that in- in as long as I’ve known him, anyway.”

“Exactly,” Mercedes said softly. “Which is why we’re going to make this dinner perfect-”

From downstairs, there was a distinct  _ crash,  _ and Dedue couldn’t help the way he jolted. Sitting upright as though he’d just woken, he glanced at the group assembled on his bedside table, relieved to see that none of them had noticed. Their gazes were all cast towards the door.

_ “Shit,”  _ Sylvain muttered.

“What was that?” Dedue asked softly, and the eyes of all those he had met yesterday- plus a feather duster he did not recognize- turned towards him with worry.

“Dedue, you’re awake!” Annette chirped, sounding a little strained. “Ah, Dimitri sent us to ask you down to dinner with him, but…”

There was another crash, a little more distant this time.

“Is that him?” he asked, scrambling upright and tugging the cloak around his shoulders. “Where is he- I can-”

“Wait a moment,” Mercedes cut in gently. “Let me go first. It might be better if I just… check in on him. Sometimes it’s best not to approach him when- when it’s bad. I know you got through to him last night, but…”

“But at the end of the day, a beast is still a beast,” Felix spat. Mercedes shot him a  _ look,  _ and even through painted porcelain it was enough to shut him up.

Dedue was starting to get a definite sense of who among the castle’s occupants he actually  _ liked,  _ that was for sure. “Are you sure that I shouldn’t…” he started, but Mercedes only had to glance at him- far gentler than the look she’d turned on Felix- and he let the sentence trail off. He got the sense he could trust her.

“It’ll be alright,” Annette reassured him, hopping a little closer and offering him a painted grin. “Mercie knows what she’s doing! She’ll get Dimitri feeling right as rain, don’t worry.” She wasn’t particularly good at hiding the strain in her voice, but Dedue didn’t bother pointing it out. Her facade of cheerfulness was cracked enough that he was fairly sure she herself knew it. If she was going to keep up appearances for his sake, he didn’t wish to upset her.

“Very well,” he said softly, nodding. “Please… keep him safe.”

Mercedes smiled at him before hopping off the bedside table and making her way out the door. “I’ll do my best,” she called. “It’s all any of us can do.”

Her absence left a tangible hole in the room, an awkward silence as the remaining group turned their scrutiny towards Dedue. He shifted a little, clearing his throat and tugging the cloak around his shoulders tighter, but Sylvain broke the silence before he had to,  _ thank the gods. _

“Ah, Dedue, you haven’t met Ingrid, right? She’s the, ah, feather duster,” he said, talking a little too quickly for it to sound like anything but the forced attempt at cheer it was.

“Hello,” he greeted, extending a hand. The feather duster- Ingrid- glanced him over, her eyes widening, and ignored his offered handshake completely.

“Is that-” she asked, disbelief coloring her tone. “Is that  _ Dimitri’s  _ cloak?”

Dedue blinked, retracting his hand awkwardly. He’d almost forgotten. “Oh, ah, yes, he- he gave it to me last night.”

He couldn’t quite identify the look in her eyes as she met his gaze again, but her voice couldn’t mask the obvious shock when she spoke. “Well, damn.”

She leaned towards Sylvain and murmured something Dedue couldn’t quite make out, but from Sylvain’s self-satisfied smirk it probably had something to do with the conversation he had heard earlier. “Toldja,” Sylvain crowed, barking a laugh as Ingrid shoved him hard enough he nearly fell off the table.  _ “Ingrid!” _

“Don’t expect me to help you with whatever you plan on doing with  _ this,”  _ she muttered, hopping off the table herself and heading for the door. “I’ll go see if Mercedes needs backup with Dimitri.”

Sylvain laughed, waving a candlestick after her so wildly Dedue feared for a moment he’d light a lamp on fire. “Oh, I don’t need your help.  _ Felix,  _ however-”

“No,” Felix said flatly.

“Help?” Dedue cut in, raising an eyebrow. “With what, exactly?”

Sylvain shot a glance to Annette and Ashe, and they exchanged decidedly conspiratory grins. “Why don’t you come to dinner with us?” he asked, grin growing a little wider at Dedue’s evident confusion. “Dimitri will… either show up, or he won’t. But you’re a  _ guest!  _ And you haven’t been shown any proper hospitality.”

Sylvain took off into the hall before Dedue could even respond, Annette and Ashe following the best they could. Dedue figured he could do worse than go with them. Shaking his head, he couldn’t help but smile, bemused, as he slipped into the dark hall, pulling Dimitri’s cloak tighter around him and heading after the flicker of Sylvain’s candles at the end of the hallway.

After a few turns, their little group wound up in a room flickering with warm light, a chandelier overhead illuminating a long table with only two places set. They were next to each other, despite the size of the table, and something about it made warmth curl high in Dedue’s chest. He  _ wanted  _ to be closer to Dimitri. Dimitri  _ wanted  _ to trust him. It was… sweet.

Sylvain clambered his way onto the table and gestured with a candlestick, grinning. “Alright. Sit wherever you want. I have a feeling that Dimitri will be, ah,  _ indisposed  _ for a while, but… well.” He shrugged, and Dedue took his seat, trying to shake the worry that was still gnawing at the back of his mind. He trusted Mercedes, of course, and she had known Dimitri far longer, but… some part of himself had already irrevocably attached itself to him, and he couldn’t help but want to  _ help. _

“Hey.” Something nudged at Dedue’s hand, and he looked down to see Ashe and Annette flanking his plate, each with gentle smiles. “Don’t worry, alright?” Ashe continued. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Annette nodded. “Really. He has, ah, episodes like this… a lot. He’s… got. A lot going on.” She sighed, glancing away, and Dedue’s heart twisted. “But… you can tell he’s a good person, right? Just… I don’t know. Sad.” Her voice was almost unbearably hopeful, a little scared. As if there was a lot more riding on the question than he knew.

“Of course,” Dedue answered without hesitation. “I… did not stay for nothing.” His hand drifted unconsciously to tug at the cloak. It was true. He wanted- he wanted to find who Dimitri really was, under all the sharp edges and broken pieces he bared with such ease. He didn’t want to leave him, nor any of these people, trapped in these forms in the middle of a frozen castle in the heart of the woods, with no hope left and their time running out.

He knew they hoped he could break their curse, even if they wouldn’t tell him how, yet. He… he didn’t want to leave until he  _ could.  _ And beyond that, if Edelgard and her men were to find Dimitri on his own, the blame for the vanishing troops would be placed on him in a heartbeat. He’d be practically defenseless against half the village armed to the teeth. Edelgard’s axe, Hubert’s spells, Ferdinand’s lance… Dimitri would fall in an instant, alone and  _ scared,  _ and- and Dedue  _ wouldn’t  _ let that happen.

Dedue’s mother had always told him he was too soft for his own good, that his heart was too impossibly kind and it would get him into trouble one day. He’d been eight at the time, crying over the houseplant withering despite his best attempts to save it. Looking back, there was nothing he could have done, and he recognized that, but…  _ here,  _ there was something to be done, and far more to save than a houseplant. He wouldn’t let this wither. He  _ wouldn’t,  _ if it meant making his heart hard, if it meant having to stand against the entire village he’d spent the last five years of his life in. 

He would see this through.

“Thank you,” Annette breathed softly, and the best he could do was offer her a smile. He didn’t quite know how to put it into words, but… he wanted to help this place, these  _ people,  _ in whatever way they thought that he was capable. The hope in Annette’s eyes, the way Mercedes would not tell him exactly what was needed to solve the curse, Ingrid’s shock and Sylvain’s cocky assurance, the conversation he’d overheard this morning… they  _ believed  _ in him. He was their last hope. How could he promise her that he wouldn’t let them down?

He settled for placing a hand gently on her handle, hoped it would translate to a reassuring touch. “There is no need to thank me. I… I will do whatever I can.”

Sylvain  _ tsked.  _ “Enough of that right now. Please, don’t worry.” He gestured grandly, and the kitchen door swung open. Carts seemingly manned by no one wheeled out, laden with trays- oh, they had probably been human once, then. The thought sank heavy into Dedue’s chest, and he sighed, redirecting his attention to Sylvain and trying to push the feeling away.

“And this is…?”

“Dinner! Let us treat you tonight,” Sylvain grinned. “I’m sure right now relaxing isn’t exactly a priority for you… but you’re staying here to help us, so please! Let us help  _ you,  _ too.” He offered an exaggerated bow. “Be our guest.”

Dedue didn’t see much reason to say no.

Sylvain ushered a tray forward, babbling something about hors d'oeuvres that was so hard to follow, after a moment Dedue stopped trying and tuned him out in favor of taking a look at the food. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He wasn’t exactly… confident in the cooking skills of inanimate objects who he assumed had no way to eat, but it looked surprisingly alright, all things considered.

“Ashe, Mercie, and I cooked it earlier,” Annette explained, looking a little anxious. “Well, Ashe did most of the work, but…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Annette! You didn’t even blow anything up this time,” Ashe said softly.  _ (This time?  _ Dedue wondered, but decided it was best to leave it.) “It’s just… been a while since I’ve gotten to cook. I missed it.”

Dedue decided on what looked like a bowl of onion gratin soup; his mother had used to make it for him when he was sick as a child, and he hadn’t had any in years. The warm smell wasn’t quite the same, but it looked the part, mostly. “Ah, do you like cooking?” he asked Ashe, lifting a spoonful to his mouth tentatively. Ashe grinned and nodded- at least, Dedue assumed it was a nod, it was hard to tell for certain when he couldn’t very well bend his porcelain body. 

His grin only grew when Dedue’s eyes widened; the soup was delicious. A little too salty, perhaps, and not as thick as his mother’s, but… he couldn’t fault Ashe for that when he doubted he could taste it.

“I used to- I used to want to be a chef, actually,” Ashe explained, shifting a little nervously. “But, ah… well.” He laughed, sadness creeping into his tone. “Here we are now.”

“When… when the curse is lifted,” Dedue murmured softly, and Ashe laughed again, a little bitter, as though such a thought seemed impossible to him, “I think you would be a fantastic chef. This is delicious.”

“Thank you,” Ashe said, voice a little distant. “That… that would be nice.”

He did not say anything more.

The silence stretched a moment, Annette coughing like she was about to break it, but before she could the door swung open again and Mercedes hopped in. Dedue was instantly at full alert, heart leaping into his throat and question on his lips. “Is he-”

Mercedes smiled softly, and he relaxed, not finishing the question. “He’s alright, don’t worry. I don’t think he’ll make it to dinner, though. He’s sleeping right now. Wore himself out.” She spoke softly, but a great sadness weighed the words down, like Dimitri’s pain was hers as well.

_ Too kind for her own good.  _ Dedue swallowed back the tight feeling in his chest, remembering his mother’s words again, remembering the way he had felt too ardently as a child and how far he had closed himself off since then. But Mercedes had not closed herself off, he realized, had let her heart stay open despite the hurt thrown at it, and she paid for it every single day.

She sounded so  _ tired. _

“Will he want dinner later?” he blurted before his mind could quite catch up with his mouth. Mercedes sighed.

“I don’t think so. He… doesn’t eat enough, really, but I think that’s the last thing on his mind most days.” She made her way to the table, forcing a smile, and he lifted her up to join the others. “At… any rate. Would you like tea?”

“I am fine,” he said softly, waving a hand. He didn’t want to make her work right now- not like this, with the weariness creeping ever further into her voice. “But… if you’d like, I could cook something for him later, and, ah. Try to get him to eat. I… quite enjoy it.”

“Really?” Ashe asked with an excited little gasp, before he seemed to remember the weight hanging over the room, a grim reminder of how badly Dimitri was doing. “I mean- sorry. That’s- that’s really cool. That you- like to cook-”

Dedue smiled gently. “Perhaps we could cook together one day.” Ashe grinned and agreed, and Dedue did his best to appear reassuring, but his focus was still on Mercedes, on the way her eyes closed a moment when she assumed the group’s attention was off of her. He resolved to speak to her about it later and find out exactly what Dimitri was dealing with, exactly how much he was suffering and how little he wished to let people in. It might have been too soon to assume, but… he felt he could understand Mercedes, could relate to her a little better than the others.

She was kinder than her fate had been to her so far, that much was certain. He wished to help however he could.

Dedue finished his soup and fell into idle conversation with the others for a while, wishing to learn a little more about these people he was supposed to be saving, even if he had no clear idea  _ how.  _ They all carried an undercurrent of deep exhaustion with them, he noticed with a pang; the years without hope had clearly taken a toll on all of them. It was painful to see how they were dulled- Annette’s exuberance, Ashe’s compassion, Sylvain’s confidence and Mercedes’s gentleness all barely-maintained masks at this point.

He couldn’t help but feel as though the residents of the castle were approaching a breaking point, and their very last hopes were riding on him being able to stop the curse before then.

Felix and the feather duster- Ingrid, Dedue remembered vaguely- joined them for a while, Felix muttering something vaguely deprecating and Ingrid not saying much at all. Both of their gazes were cold, detached, but Dedue noticed…  _ something  _ in Felix’s voice shift when he turned an insult on Sylvain. There was a softness to it, a fondness despite the harshness of his words, and he only had to glance at Mercedes for her to hum a soft confirmation.

That made… a few things clearer, at least. The way Sylvain had trailed after him last night, Dedue had wondered, and watching them now, it was certain. They clearly loved each other, and… clearly had not done a thing about it.

He watched Sylvain extend a candlestick when Felix wasn’t looking, then give up and pull it back halfway through the action, flashing him a flippant grin when he turned to him again. Whether it was because of the curse or not was less clear, and Dedue was not a betting man, but he would still put money on the answer being  _ yes. _

So many lives… all riding on him being able to do one impossible thing. Dedue couldn’t quite manage to swallow around the lump in his throat.

Eventually, Ingrid swept off again, citing something about needing to clean up the west wing- given the crashes from earlier, it was believable- and Felix followed a moment later. Sylvain cast a glance at them that was a half sad, half hopeful, and Mercedes shooed at him until he sighed and leapt from the table, chasing Felix the best he could.

“Those two…” she murmured, glancing towards Dedue. “I… wish we could do anything about it.”

“About their relationship?” he asked, although it was obvious how much more she was speaking of.

“Or lack thereof,” Annette muttered, and Ashe laughed; it was quick and harsh and unnatural coming from him. It just sounded  _ sad.  _ Tired.

“About… well, you know.” Mercedes sighed. “Everything.”

“I swear,” Dedue murmured, hoping the conviction was evident in his voice, “I will do… all that I can. If I can.”

Mercedes hummed softly. “That is all I could ask. I’m… sorry I can’t tell you what’s needed to break the curse. I just… worry that to meddle like that would keep it from ever happening. I don’t want to put too much pressure on you…”

“Am I correct in assuming that I am your last hope?” he asked, more firmly. Mercedes didn’t meet his eyes. Annette coughed softly. Ashe said nothing at all.

“...Yes. But-”

“Then I will do whatever I am able. But could you… at least give me an idea of what I’m attempting to do here? Or at least what I am dealing with when it comes to Dimitri?”

“That, I can do,” Mercedes responded quietly. “Dimitri… oh, I don’t know how to explain it. He feels things far more strongly than most. He has a good heart, but… he’s been badly hurt. He  _ loves  _ too much, and it means he grieves too much, and…” she paused for a moment, eyes going distant. “He sees things that the rest of us don’t. It torments him.”

The lump in Dedue’s throat was back, tighter than before. “What- what do you mean?”

Mercedes was silent for a moment, clearly debating how much to tell him. “You’ll find out sooner or later,” she breathed finally, meeting his eyes again. “He’s haunted by… everyone he’s lost. All the people he believes that he failed to save. Dimitri tends to shoulder the blame for things that have never been his fault.” She laughed bitterly. “He’s been getting worse and worse as  _ we  _ have gotten worse and worse. He blames himself for us, too- like he could have ever helped getting cursed. It’s just- oh,  _ Dima-” _

Her voice broke, and Dedue realized with a pang that if she had been able to, she would have been crying. As it was, her porcelain body shook, and it was all he could do to steady her with a single hand. “Forgive me,” she sniffed after a moment. “It’s… it’s so hard to see him like that sometimes. He was always like a younger brother to me, and now-”

“He was like a brother to all of us,” Annette murmured. “I… miss him.”

Dedue swallowed hard. “I’ll bring him back,” he said firmly. “I’ll help him. I swear to you.”

Mercedes smiled, and it was pained but so  _ hopeful  _ it hurt. “That’s… the best I can hope you do.”

Dedue clasped his hand over her for a moment before rising. “You said he was sleeping, right? Where… where is he?”

“Ah- I got him into a room a few doors down from yours. It’s not his usual quarters, but-”

“Thank you, Mercedes.” That was all he needed to know. He knew Dimitri would likely still be sleeping, and yet… he needed to check on him. He needed to  _ see  _ him again, needed to remind himself he was real, needed to- he wasn’t sure  _ what  _ he needed anymore. He didn’t know how to describe the feeling welling tight and hot in his chest.

“Where are you-” Ashe started, but Dedue was already halfway out the door, grabbing a thankfully-inanimate candelabra from a sconce on the wall for light. He did not bother finishing the sentence.

“Take care of him, okay?” Mercedes called. “He’s more fragile than you know.” And then, quieter, as though she were speaking only to herself, “He’s more fragile than  _ he  _ knows.”

Her aching sadness haunted Dedue as he made his way through dark halls that he only vaguely recognized, and he shivered despite himself. Gods, he hoped he was heading in the right direction, but it was near impossible to tell without Sylvain’s light acting as a guide. The candles in his hand flickered as if in agreement.

He paused at a point where two hallways intersected, considering his next step, but froze when a muffled noise drifted down the darker of the two. He did not hesitate to head down it.

As he progressed further down the hall, the noise grew clearer, and he was able to identify it as soft sobs, and… a voice, achingly hollow yet achingly  _ frightened,  _ muttering tremulously. Dedue’s heart picked up, the rhythm pounding in his ears not quite enough to drown out the familiar cadence, the one from his dreams, from the night before made real. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Dimitri?” he called, wincing at the way his voice echoed. It did not stop the muttering for even a moment, and it was not until he turned the corner into the room at the end of the hall and was faced by Dimitri himself awash in moonlight, huddled and shivering and certainly not asleep, that he could make out just what he was saying.

For a moment, he wished he couldn’t.

Dimitri wasn’t facing him; his huddled form was directed at the blank wall in the back of the room, but from the way he was shaking… it wasn’t blank at all. Not to him. Dedue swallowed hard, edging closer and trying to push down a shudder. No wonder Mercedes had been so upset. Seeing him in this state…

“Father,  _ please,”  _ Dimitri gasped, shaking. Despite his mass, his usual hulking frame, he looked… so small.  _ Broken. _

Dedue felt ill.

“Please don’t look at me that way. I swear- I  _ swear.  _ I will avenge you- I- Mother,  _ please-”  _ Dimitri’s voice broke, and a part of Dedue felt like it was breaking too. “I- no, please. I’m sorry, I--”

Dimitri paused then, body going stiff and silent as though he’d been struck. “You can’t ask that of me,” he breathed, another tremor wracking his body. “He- he’s not  _ scared  _ of me. No one’s ever- ever looked at me like- Glenn, wait,  _ please-” _

Dedue couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Was Dimitri talking about  _ him? _

He couldn’t let this keep going. He couldn’t watch this.

“Dimitri,” he said again, firmer. Dimitri still didn’t seem to hear him, and Dedue forced his body to respond, forced himself to step in front of where he was huddled on the floor. His eye, glinting a hazy blue, stared right through him.  _ “Dimitri.” _

Dimitri blinked, and it looked for a moment that the fog lifted. “Dedue?” he croaked. “What are you-”

He blinked again, and shuddered; when Dedue looked into his eye once more the fog was back tenfold. His mouth curled into a snarl, fangs baring, and when Dedue reached a hand towards him he backed up a little, still shivering. Dedue let him go, but did not flinch.

Dimitri was afraid. That was all. Dedue would  _ never  _ be.

“Come to torment me? Come to be just another delusion? They think me mad, you know,” Dimitri asked, voice rising in a twisted mockery of humor. “Do you?”

“Dimitri,” Dedue said, softly, sadly. “Of course not.” He edged a little closer, and Dimitri’s ears pinned back.

“You should leave,” he growled. “This is no place for the living.”

“Then it is no place for you, either,” he responded evenly, inching close enough to touch, to place a gentle hand on the side of Dimitri’s face. The fur was matted- with what, he wasn’t sure he wished to know- but there was a suggestion of softness beneath the grime. Like Dimitri himself, really, and oh, Dedue would do whatever it took to bring that softness to the surface.. Dimitri sagged into the touch for a moment, whole body gravitating towards it like he hadn’t known gentleness in years.

He  _ hadn’t,  _ Dedue was sure. The thought twisted deep in his stomach.

He dared to move his hand, dared to stroke through the tangled fur, to try to offer Dimitri some semblance of comfort. Dimitri stiffened, though, as though remembering himself, and jerked away. Dedue didn’t move, even when Dimitri drew himself to his full height with a glare.

“I am  _ already dead,”  _ he hissed, eye sharp, flinty. “You would do well to remember that.  _ Leave.” _

“No,” Dedue responded evenly. He wasn’t going to be chased away. Not when Dimitri was so  _ scared  _ beneath the facade, the same vulnerability from earlier still painfully apparent. Not when he could do something,  _ anything,  _ to help.

“What?” Dimitri asked, voice going soft at the end of the attempted snarl. Dedue moved to touch him again, and this time Dimitri did not pull away. He looked so  _ tired  _ of fighting.

“I’m not going to leave you like this,” he said, keeping his voice gentle, steady despite the hot swell of emotion in his chest, his throat. Dimitri blinked, eye wide like he couldn’t understand what Dedue was saying.

_ “Why?”  _ Dimitri breathed, and Dedue couldn’t answer, couldn’t explain just how connected he felt to him despite what a short time it had been; he had no way of explaining his dreams or how badly he wanted answers. But… he could explain, at the very least, how badly he wanted to help these people who had been suffering for so long, who he had already attached himself to despite how carefully he usually guarded himself.

“You are human, Dimitri,” he said softly instead, cupping Dimitri’s face. Dimitri exhaled quietly at the touch, swaying closer. “You deserve someone to see that in you. You deserve to be helped.”

“I…” Dimitri began, but swallowed hard, could not say more. He stumbled a little, and Dedue took a chance, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around Dimitri, fingers tangling through golden fur. The contact seemed to confuse him for a moment; he stiffened at first, then went limp against him to a point Dedue might almost have feared he’d passed out if not for the way Dimitri’s hands tightened at his waist a moment later. Like before, it was still clear how hard he was trying to be gentle, how despite the strength behind his hands his claws did not unsheathe for even a second.

Dimitri  _ was  _ gentle, Dedue thought, guiding him closer and crouching slowly, bringing him along until they were both on the floor. He was someone far too gentle who had been forced to grow far too cold, and his armor of jagged edges was far too chipped for it to ever scare him off.

He would stay. He would help him. He  _ would. _

“Dedue,” Dimitri said softly. Dedue paused for a moment, pulling away enough to look at him, question half-formed on his lips. Dimitri didn’t continue, though- just  _ looked  _ at him, blinking slowly, blue eye watery and wide. Dedue met his gaze evenly, not quite sure how to identify the emotions playing across Dimitri’s face.

Dimitri seemed to find something in Dedue’s eyes that made his brow furrow, and one of the hands at Dedue’s back lifted to his face. He leaned into the touch, hoping Dimitri would understand it as a display of trust, but froze when Dimitri brushed at something right under his eye.

“You’re crying,” Dimitri murmured. Dedue blinked, and- oh, Dimitri was right. He hadn’t even realized.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, hating how his voice wavered. “I-”

Dimitri’s face went almost unbearably soft, and he reached for Dedue’s hand, threading their fingers together like they had been before. His hands- and they were more hands than paws, really, but there were certainly soft pads pressing against Dedue’s palms- shook against Dedue’s own, but the grip was gentle. Dedue swallowed hard.

“You really should go,” Dimitri muttered, but there was no bite to his tone. His voice just sounded small. “Someone like you… shouldn’t be here.”

“Someone like me?” Dedue asked softly. Dimitri furrowed his brow.

“You’re too- too soft.  _ Kind.  _ This- this living hell is not where you belong.”

Dedue’s heart clenched, a warmth he didn’t wish to begin to address blooming in his chest. Oh, Dimitri was the kind one, even if he did not accept it in himself. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he forced a shaky exhale and ran his thumbs over the inside of Dimitri’s wrists, where the fur was softer, less matted.

“I am far from the kindest person here,” he said gently. “Mercedes, Annette, Ashe, everyone… they are all kind. And you are, too, Dimitri.”

Dimitri stiffened, looking like he was about to pull away, but Dedue tightened his grip. “Haven’t I told you before not to lie to me?” he sighed, but his voice was quiet, a frail vulnerability that belied pained hope lacing through it. He  _ wanted  _ to believe Dedue, that much was clear.

“And I have not done so once,” he reassured him. “I swear it. I stayed because I could see that you are kind, you are  _ human,  _ and you don’t deserve to be abandoned here. I’m not leaving.”

Dimitri let out a slow, shaking breath. He swayed forward a little, and Dedue moved his hands to grasp his arms, to keep him upright, steady. “Dimitri. I want to help you; I want to help all of you here. Will you let me?”

Dimitri’s eye fluttered closed. “I… am not well,” he breathed, another tremor quaking through him. “I- you shouldn’t-”

“I know,” Dedue replied, soft. “But that does not mean you can’t be helped. That does not mean you don’t  _ deserve  _ to be.”

Dimitri didn’t seem to know what to say, but he didn’t try to fight Dedue any longer. Dedue waited a beat, just to be sure, before pulling him forward into an embrace again. Dimitri melted against him, limp and surprisingly light given his bulk- beneath the fur, he really was just skin and bones, every tremor a death rattle through ribs that pressed too sharply into Dedue’s side.

“Are you cold?” Dedue murmured. Dimitri leaned back a little, confusion evident across his face at the change of topic.

“Am I- what?”

“You’re still shaking,” Dedue pointed out. “Would you like your cloak back?” He moved to unfasten it from around his shoulders, but Dimitri stopped him with a hand over his own.

“I- ah. No. I’m alright. You should-” he coughed awkwardly, unable to meet Dedue’s gaze. “You should keep it. It, ah, suits you.”

And oh, perhaps it had been too little time yet to feel that way, but Dedue couldn’t help the warm  _ fondness _ that curled through his chest at that. “Very well,” he acquiesced. “But- at least let me help you to your room. We can stoke the fire.”

Dimitri coughed again, looking a little panicked. “Ah- there is no need. We- we can stay here-”

“Then at least let me get you somewhere with a bed,” Dedue pressed. “Please.”

Dimitri hesitated, but let Dedue pull him to his feet, stumbling a little as he rose to his full height. He was struck again by how  _ light  _ he was, how easily he let Dedue guide him, leaning close like a moth chasing a flame.

“Follow me,” he told him gently, wasting no time before turning and heading out the door. Dimitri stood still for a moment before scrambling to catch up, walking a little too close to his side- not that Dedue minded. He was glad, at least, that Dimitri was comfortable enough to allow him this close.

Still, out of the corner of his eye, Dimitri looked troubled, blue eye wide like he wanted to ask something but didn’t quite know how. Dedue glanced at him inquisitively, and Dimitri jolted a little, and-  _ oh. _

That was what it was.

Wordlessly, he extended his hand. Dimitri blinked at it for a moment, glancing back at Dedue almost shyly before taking it and twining their fingers together. Smiling, he squeezed Dimitri’s hand, taking quiet delight in the way his ears flicked at the action.

_ Cute.  _ This time, he did not push away the thought, letting it sink warm in his chest instead before he collected himself enough to lead Dimitri back down the hallway. The feeling was… familiar, somehow, in the way that Dimitri was familiar, the answer as to  _ why  _ nearly taunting him with how close it felt. All he knew for certain, though, was that he didn’t mind the easy warmth.

He guided Dimitri down hallways he only half recognized, hoping for the best, and breathed a sigh of relief when they finally came upon the one he remembered his own room being in. “Down here,” he murmured, coming to a stop in front of the door next to his room. “Is this alright?”

Dimitri blinked owlishly at the door, then at Dedue, throat working but no sound coming out. “I… yes,” he managed to rasp, and Dedue squeezed his hand again before pushing the door open.

The room was similar enough to his own, a hearth in one corner sitting cold and a bed against the wall that looked large enough to fit Dimitri without too much issue. Nodding decisively, he led him to the bed- Dimitri letting himself be pushed to sit without protest- before moving to the fireplace. The log looked old, but when Dedue struck the flint nearby that may have laid there for years it lit easily enough.

Before long, the room filled with warmth, and he turned away from the fire and back to Dimitri, who had been watching him with an unreadable expression. He jolted at being caught, and Dedue couldn’t help but smile fondly as he returned to his side.

“Any better?” he asked. Dimitri blinked slowly, as if he couldn’t quite process the question.

“I… yes,” he croaked like he’d forgotten how. Exhaustion was coloring the edges of his voice.

“Good,” Dedue murmured, clasping Dimitri’s hand again for a moment before withdrawing to pull the blanket around him. “Will you be able to get some rest?”

It took Dimitri a moment to respond again, but Dedue did not mind waiting. “I… can try,” he breathed. Dedue smiled.

“That is all I ask.”

He moved to pull away, but Dimitri caught his wrist, grip weak but insistent. “Wait,” he said, looking embarrassed a moment later at the action. “Could you… I mean… would you…”

“Could I?” Dedue prompted as Dimitri struggled for words. His ears were flicking again, and really, the action was far too endearing.

“Please… please don’t leave yet,” Dimitri finally managed, voice smaller than Dedue had ever heard. “Please stay.”

_ Oh.  _ The lump in Dedue’s throat returned tenfold, and he had to blink hard again against a hot swell of emotion he didn’t want to place. For Dimitri to ask such a thing… 

“Of course,” he murmured, lacing his fingers with Dimitri’s again.  _ As long as you need,  _ he did not say. The words felt too close, too intimate, too soon. And yet they were on the tip of his tongue nevertheless; upon swallowing them they sank heavy in his stomach.

It may not have been wise to trust so fast, and yet every part of him trusted Dimitri, he realized as he urged him to lay down, pulling the blanket tighter over him and smiling when he sighed into the touch. As Dimitri’s eye fluttered closed and his breathing evened out, Dedue’s grasp on his hand did not falter.  _ He  _ did not falter; he  _ would not,  _ he promised himself, watching Dimitri’s sleeping form for any signs of distress. He would find Dimitri under his armor, if it meant placing every broken piece back together with his own hands.

He  _ would. _

And perhaps, Dedue thought, watching hearthlight flicker over the rise and fall of Dimitri’s chest, he would find just what pieces of himself he had lost before now. He had a feeling it was those pieces that had already decided to call this place- to call  _ Dimitri-  _ home.

It was only hours later that he could bring himself to return to his room that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: Dimitri isn't the only beast in the forest.


End file.
